I almost killed Husband #1. On purpose. With a knife. And I consider myself to be somewhat civilized and in control.
But there I was, standing in the kitchen, cutting up a melon, big knife in hand. And there he was, standing in front of me, telling me about flying to another city to visit his newly-disclosed “girl friend”, describing their activities of the past weekend.
And I saw it. A brief blackness with accompanied by a ringing in my ears Then the knife shining, plunging, cutting, again and again. My hand pushing it into his abdomen, cutting the mean part of him out. I saw myself killing him. I saw the blood, the muscle, the remains of whatever he had for lunch. It all flashed in front of my eyes in a split second.
Mercifully, I saw something else immediately after my murderous vision. I saw my children.
I saw my children being raised by grandparents. I saw long lonely stretched of time between visiting days in prison. I saw parties, graduations, weddings, births, and quiet moments together. I saw finger painting, baking Christmas cookies, and splashing in mud puddles. I saw all those things and realized that they would happen with or without me present.
And my desire to be a part of my children’s lives was more powerful than my desire to kill Husband #1.