The Willow Tree

2.

CHAPTER TWO

When Tanner and I first moved in together, I was unaware of the outcome. I have never shared a house with a significant other, or anyone besides my parents. We had just gotten married, at Twenty- One, exactly Four years later after we first officially met. Some might find that it is sudden, that it could possibly put a strain on our relationship, but it never did. Nonetheless, I was worried about the outcome.
"That should be the last of the boxes, thank you for all you have done." I say to the moving company, and hand them a generous tip. It was no doubt a difficult task moving a whole furnished studio apartment into another building on the other side of town. They thanked me and went on their way doing what movers do after a long haul.
I closed the door to be met with the lips of my dearest Tanner, the love of my life. His lips tasted like cherry chapstick with a slight suggestion he was chewing mint flavored gum previously. He was prepared, and he always was. I kissed his lips, equally dissolving into a melting pot of attraction and intimacy. I pondered what his next move would be, and I became wanting for more.
Tanner proceeded his hands elsewhere, his lips still locked onto mine. His body pressed against my own, our warmth combined. He whispered sweet "everythings" into my ear and I found myself anticipating his next move. That was until we got a knock on the very door we were leaned up against.
I opened it and to my surprise it was my very own mother, dressed in her usual yoga attire and her mat slinged across her torso.
"Hi dearest daughter of mine, just checking in on you! I called you a little bit ago, but you didn't pick up so I took the liberty to drive from the house. I hope you don't mind." She says and she is down to the core a wonderful person; However, she does show up at the most inopportune times.
"No, I don't mind, I was a little busy unpacking and various other things but you can stay for a bit. There's coffee in a pot right now." I say and give my mother a big hug. I look my way towards Tanner. He's mischievous at times, and this time I suppose he concluded my mother was on her way given the comical grin he had on his face.
"Tanny boy, look at you! You look so handsome!" My mom sputters out, making me giggle cause she says that just about every time he sees him. Tanner is wearing black and yellow boots, a red and black flannel and khaki pants. My own personal Lumberjack.
"This is a nice place, much more than what Willow had at her apartment, Enough room for a couple babies-" Before my mother could finish her sentence I interrupted her. She can be a little "off her rocker's" sometimes. She is no doubt going to make a great grandparent, but being in my early twenties that is something I did not want to think or hear about at the time.
"Mom! You can't just say that. We just moved in together, and we are not thinking about children at this moment. I still have more I want to accomplish before preparing for a whole new life." I speak quickly, my cheeks now burning from sheer embarrassment. Deviously, Tanner chuckles.
"I assure you Miss Acres, we are being careful upon Willow's request." Tanner says as he kisses my forehead. I smile and feel the shades of red in my cheeks turn to the usual pink I am used to.
"Alright, I apologize sincerely to my bashful daughter. But I must go, your dad wants me to help him with the garage. I love you mostest." My mother says as she gives me one last hug.
"Tell Daddy I love him and I will be coming to the house once I get all cozy and settled in." I assured my mother and off she left. I closed the door behind me and locked it.

After the outing, I decided to hang my artwork above the brick mantle we had placed many years ago in the living room. It gave humanity that it was otherwise lacking. I stared at my signature as if that was the true masterpiece, the Mona Lisa behind it all, but it meant more to know that it was my artistic abilities to have made something so beautiful.
Tanner was in his study, working on his new project for his business. I was left to my own vices, as if Tanner was never really here and it was all a trickery in my imagination. In these times, I become restless and incompetent. Perhaps my mind has been tainted six months ago. I swear to you ever since that night I have never been the same. Memories of that night replay in my head as if it were a record stuck on repeat infinitely. It haunts me like an old, bare house. The trees in the front yard withered away and rotted, the foundation near collapse.
Before I knew it, my hands were cold and clammy, my thoughts were racing at a hundred miles an hour and I felt like I was going to pass out. I have had these spells before, but nothing compares to the sorrow I feel now. It hits me like a brick, this house is crumbling, and I am not alone. I feel my husband's strong hold. I am crying, and I am not alone. He is here too, and he is crying with me. I have never seen Tanner cry so loud. We are together. Outsiders to this phenomenon would not understand, but I do. He is hurting like I am, and I want to hold him tighter but I can't because I am holding him as tight as I possibly can. We do not let go. We stay on the living room floor, finding aspiration in our dejection. 

The 21st came rather unexpectedly and I found myself in the room I never thought I would be in. A therapist by the name of Yvonne. She was a woman in her late forties, plump and had the prettiest white curly hair I have ever seen. She sat before me, in her chair and I was sitting adjacent. I decided this would be a job for me and me alone. Tanner was waiting in the other room. There was something calming I found in Yvonne, perhaps the numerous positive quotes on her wall, the smell of sandalwood that reminds me of the love of my life, or maybe it was her pearly white smile that didn't look forced.
"Hello Willow, I am going to be your therapist. My name is Yvonne. Let's start, shall we?" She asks and her smile is so genuine. I trust her immediately.
"Yes, that would be nice. I would like help with this ongoing burden I have brought within myself. It's been seven months since I miscarried. The loss has not made me the same individual I used to be. I find myself lost, and often isolated. I know it's not good for my intellect, but the night plays over in my mind. Constantly. The more I want it to go away, it just keeps coming back like my personal endless, revolving hell." I say and I already feel like a weight has been lifted. I only confide in my Tanner, and he is the only one with such knowledge about my dreams, depression, and what I have been going through. Yvonne jots in her notebook.
"Often when something traumatic happens, your mind memorizes the event and repeats, because internally you are searching for a way to fix the trauma. Reliving the trauma is a way of you trying to re-embody that event. Trying to find the missing piece to the puzzle. How I want you to approach your negative thoughts to the miscarry, I want you to try to replace that memory with a happy one. It could be anything. If that is not working, do you have any coping skills or hobbies you could use as a backup?" Yvonne is patient and merciful. I appreciate her.
"I dabble in art. I paint. I like to use that as a scapegoat , but as of late it has not been effective." I say, and I am twiddling my thumbs nervously. Therapy is constructive, but scary.
"Painting is a wonderful idea, but if that is not working, try this sheet of coping skills I have made. It is important to try them because you never know, you might like one and it'll help you. And I have supplied you with a journal as well because sometimes all you really need is to solemnly write whatever you're feeling in your head. It helps. And if all else fails, reach out to me and I will talk to you. Here is my work and home number just in case. I am here to help." Yvonne says and I smile. She is kind.
"Thank you Yvonne, this talk really helped me. I am glad you could be here for me. It's hard to talk to strangers about my feelings, but I find it easy to talk to you. Thank you again."