Shortly after I left the narc, Awana and I took many walks along the beach with Sabu. On these walks I occasionally picked up rocks that lay strewn on the beach, particularly if they had holes in them. They were mostly flat and the idea that the ocean had pounded them smooth was very appealing. They lived in the back of my car until I moved over to The Valley, when I finally set them out into the edge of the flowerbed.
Some of the rocks have remained mostly whole, while many of them have broken into little bits all on their own. When I picked them up, I had no idea that they weren’t really rocks at all, but were instead made up of sand and smaller pebbles cemented by the sea into their smooth, pleasing shapes.
As I pass by them every day I think of how they are like my relationship with the narc – smooth and pleasing on the outside, but ready to fracture and fall apart at any moment. As they break into smaller and smaller pieces and get washed away by the rain, so, too, does his hold over me. Soon both will be but a memory.