Ordinary Life

It was meant to be one of those poetic, possibly romantic gestures. We were celebrating two decades of life together. There had been some brokenness along the way to be sure, but we had survived, persevered and even as recently as this very trip, chosen each other once more. A few months prior, in a fit of anger, he had taken off his wedding band and set it on the hotel dresser where we were arguing  staying before driving himself to the lake. True to the well-worn pattern, he drew near once the mood had lifted and wanted his ring back, but it had been indefinitely misplaced by then. We talked of getting rings tattooed. But he couldn't mark up his body, he said. Instead, he said he ordered an identical ring to the one he removed. It was coming in the mail, any day now, he said. I found out later they don't make that ring anymore. He had not placed an order, but I am sure that he meant to. Back to the future-past, where we find ourselves in Orlando (Lake Buena Vista to be exact...

As if we had memorized a script, came the request from one who had called himself beloved: "Release me?" We, the children and I, had just listened to the recording where Neil Gaiman read ' A Christmas Carol ' at NYC Public Library and we had begun to listen to an audio drama of the same story . So, the scene where Belle releases Ebenezer was fresh in our minds. But listen, it has never been far from mine. I should mention we've been traveling down the crooked alley of divorce for at least a half a mile. We are closer to the end of that passage than the day he filed his intent... Best Man and Maid of Honor replaced now with attorneys on either side. The Reverend who married us in his backyard and bumbled through the vows  replaced by a judge,  honorable and wise. There is no music, but the courtroom's bailiff has a delightful sense of humor and keeps things running smoothly. She tells us when to sit and stand and speak. We meet in courtroom 2B, inviting metap...

I pulled through the parking space so that the rusted front bumper on my ancient 4x4 lined up with the shiny tail lights of various newer model sedans. Swim against the flow, indeed. I  lingered in the car, checking my reflection in the visor mirror and stalling with my phone, as if the calls I receive are ever not Luis from Indonesia wanting to speak with me about my cable rates or Carmella from "Chicago" congratulating me on winning -again!-  the vacation package of a lifetime. Nice folks, Carmella and Luis.  I always look forward to our chats. There were no new messages since I had put the car in motion three blocks prior, so I shut off the ignition and climbed out into the bleak midwinter. The sun had not shown up today, and the gray blanket of clouds keeping it hidden offered no warmth. The drizzle that had been dampening the town's spirit all day quickly dissolved my cloak of warmth from the car's heater. My approach to the double glass doors was heralded in a c...