I kept the fire going.

This winter he went to our cabin alone. We do this sometimes. It’s one of the perks of having a cabin in the woods far away.

This winter he went to our cabin alone when the weather was -35 C. It’s usually cold in the winter but that’s dangerously cold. Our cabin is off the grid, no electricity, no running water, but it’s insulated and there’s a big beautiful wood stove that does the job if you keep her fed.

I’m a light sleeper, chronic pain and Mama Bear ears I guess, trained to always be on alert in case a little one needs me in the night. I wake up every couple hours to toss and turn or tuck someone back in. At the cabin this makes it easy to keep warm, every time I’m up I peek at the fire, throw a few logs on before I climb back in bed and nod off. I’m always careful to leave tinder and a lighter prepped, in case I sleep too deeply and the fire goes out. It rarely goes out. I keep us warm. It’s a job he never had to consider.

He texted me before bed. Aside from the kids and the schedule we don’t text as often these days, just when he’s feeling lonely or vulnerable. “It’s really fucking cold,” he said. No shit. He told me he had a toque and was wrapped in the “30-below” sleeping bags.

I was worried. I advised him to set an alarm so he can get up and stoke the fire, keep things warm enough. “Nah,” he replied. My plan is I’ll sleep until I wake up cold and then just drive back to the city.” This was a bad plan. I know it’s a bad plan. Waking up cold in that weather is debilitating, you can’t think straight, you burn a lot of energy just shivering. I share my concerns. He brushes them off. You know, keeping a safety candle lit close by will keep you from getting frost damage? I was raised by a survivalist (can you tell?) and he knows this. He rebuffs my suggestions. He says Goodnight.

I hold my phone in my hand, breathe. This is exactly the kind of shit that isn’t my job anymore, but it’s so hard to put it down. Navigating divorce, or any other kind of change in connection, is tricky. When I was his wife I would have called him and implored, tried to talk some sense into him, fretted and fussed. It’s a job I never had to consider. I consider it now though. Thoroughly. I hold my phone in my hand.

The next night we have dinner for our kiddos’ birthday, he joins us at home. I’m sitting across from him and I can’t help but notice his face is so red. Allergies maybe? But it’s in a strange spot. He’s talking to the kids so I don’t interrupt. After supper in the kitchen he complains about his face being itchy. Guess what? It’s been bothering him since he left the cabin. And guess what else? It’s on the parts of his face that weren’t covered by his toque or blanket. The man got FUCKING FROST DAMAGE on his fucking face.

It’s called frost-nip or ‘ice burn’, and it happens with exposure to extreme cold. It’s akin to a bad sun burn. It hurts, it blisters, it sucks. It was completely preventable. He was embarrassed, but relieved it wasn’t permanent. I was trying not to roll my eyes or say I told you so. The birthday celebration took our attention again and he left soon after for his drive back to the town he works/lives in these days.

I put the kids to bed and smoked a joint outside, wrapped in a big fuzzy blanket. The snow was falling delicately, just a dusting. I could see my breath. I considered his face and the situation.

As we figure out this new balance, how to be co-parents and friends, how to co-exist as peacefully as possible post-divorce, we’re both learning a lot about what jobs we each performed, what roles and spaces we filled for each other. It’s been enlightening on both sides I’m sure. I watch the snow fall and reflect on how until recently he’s never had to worry about certain consequences; since we were 17 I’ve spun in circles doing damage control, I worried about the details, when it was cold I kept the fire going.

His red face is a reminder that in the next chapter we each have our own battles to fight. Sometimes my battle will be sitting on my hands and letting people learn their own lessons instead of doing the work for them. Sometimes my battle will be learning not to micro-manage the people I love. Sometimes my battle will be worrying about myself, for a change, and putting my energy where it’s deserved. But I know how to keep myself safe and warm.

Self-Portrait of me and my almost-ex-husband in 2012. This photo was one of one of my favourites, it was also one of my most popular posts on Tumblr.