over the phone. Swear to heaven, we called it in; no face time, no skype, nothin’ but phone. How crazy is that? To be clear, today’s conference call with my husband and an Annapolis attorney was just the divorce filing–the divorce will not be final for another thirty days. But, yes, for me, today was D day, and I don’t have to fly to MD for future hearings and my husband and I will remain friends. I am not at all sure how to put into words how I felt, but I can say with certainty that I didn’t feel nearly as sad as I thought I should have been feeling. I went through the day reflective and quiet, but unconcerned, almost apathetic, to the point where I searched for poignant memories of love and life but nothing of any significance came to mind. I wanted a revelation, but in reality, revelation came many months ago.
I went to the beach. It seemed the right place for reflection and gratitude, and dunking my head in an ocean has always been a steadfast remedy for overthought and other over-indulgences. The water temperature here is cooler, more refreshing than the hot-tub temps of the Gulf, there’s plenty of shade, and I continue to marvel at how fortunate I am that it’s only a fifteen minute bike ride to the Atlantic. But it wasn’t quite right; a bit too hot, too bright, too crowded—I wanted to be in my house, my sanctuary, where it’s cool and comforting, where the nurturing arms of home trump the mother-love of the ocean. I biked home and had leftover mahi for lunch, I did laundry, cleaned toilets, I walked to the convenience store for smokes and cookies, I bought a baby blanket from the beautiful boutique on the corner. I told myself over and over that it was an ordinary day—and it was—except that it was also quite extraordinary. Pardon the polyanna in me (or my inner cheerleader, as my former boss used to say), but it was not a day where something ended—rather a day where something began.
And since I’m in that Dear Diary kind of mood, I must tell you, dear followers, I broke up with my former lover this week for the 2, 419th time. Yes, he still calls, yes, I on occasion get sucked in. But not today—nobody got the better of me today. A final thought on the divorce filing—the attorney asked that I raise my right hand and swear that my testimony was true, acknowledging of course, that he couldn’t see me. What is to say that I didn’t give him the middle finger of my right hand? Nah…wouldn’t do that.
photo credit: WSAZ.com