Glimpses

Working 12+ hour days is a doubled-edged sword.  On one hand, I've been too busy to think about the divorce; on the other hand, I'm worn out -- mentally, physically, emotionally.  The last week was both a blur and a dark, extended nightmare.  I felt jumbled up inside, slightly off-balance, like I was running for my life and chasing something at the same time.

As busy as I've been, there have nonetheless been a few acutely painful moments.

Friday morning I was walking out the door and saw a folder on the kitchen table.  Thinking it might be work, I flipped through the documents.  Not work.  Divorce papers.  Final Judgment.  The Professor must have left them when he came by to let the dogs out.  I flipped to the last page of the Judgment, saw the court's stamp.  Sweaty and nauseous, I closed the folder.  Took a breath.  Walked out the door and went to work.

Today, I boxed up some of the Professor's things.  Cleaning out his bedside table, I found a card.  I opened it.  Happy birthday, Princess, it's your first birthday as my wife.  Electrified, I snapped the card shut and dropped it in a box with his things.

I can't see those things, can't touch them, can't think of them.  I just want to close them up and ship them away.  I wish it were that easy -- as easy to clean my heart of him as it is to clean the house of him.

It's not.