It’s probably pretty cheesy to borrow that famous line from Game of Thrones, but it’s oh so perfect for the next part of my story.
Our first winter and spring in Napa would be polar opposites of our summer and fall. As good as things were it’s still hard for me to comprehend the about-face that was heading our way.
I left off telling you we started the summer with an important trip to the East Coast, and that trip was wonderful. My youngest son graduated from the Naval Academy, and the next day, married his high school sweetheart on the banks of the Severn River.
It was all so perfect and exciting.
To top it off, Mrs. S made sure we stayed in style. We found a yacht on the Chesapeake Bay and she paid for our stay, as a gift for putting up with nine months of construction. What a generous woman.
Everything went off without a hitch and we even managed to sneak away to visit Judd’s Aunt and Uncle in Virginia.
That trip was the perfect topper to a wonderful first season in Napa. It was also the last time anything would feel “normal” for a long time.
Summer started off fine, with Mrs. S moving into her home for the season. Everything was going smoothly, but the façade started to crumble away, and beneath it was the ugly truth.
If I had to pin point it, I’d say it started when I needed a procedure to alleviate a bartholin cyst. Not to get overly graphic, but it’s extremely painful and in a very sensitive area.
I made an appointment at the clinic to see a doctor, but had to go by myself because Judd was too busy sweeping the paths around the main house. When I was told I needed to have surgery the very next morning, I was both relieved and worried.
I hurried home and told Judd, who laughed nervously.
He didn’t want to talk about it but instead told me he needed to sleep outside on the deck that night.
I was too spent emotionally to argue about it and went off to bed, alone. The next morning, he refused to get up and take me to the hospital. I drove myself there, and had the surgery, and once they released me, walked to my car, got in and cried.
Whatever it is, anyone who knows me, also knows I turn into a frightened 11-year-old during these times.
Sitting in my car, still crying, my phone rang. My oldest son called to see how I was doing. Through my tears, I said I was okay, but needed to drive home because I was in pain. When he discovered I meant drive myself home, he lost it.
By the time I got to the house, my son was on the phone with Judd asking just what the hell he was thinking, not caring for me? Judd just kept laughing and even making fun of the situation. My heart was broken by his utter lack of empathy for me, and things were strained after that.
I could have dealt with strained, but was shocked by what happened next.
…to be continued tomorrow