Divorce. As I look around my mind this is what is in top of the pile. This is what I think about. Not my job (or the threat of losing it), not my receding friendships. Not my nagging health worries. Instead I think about a complete and utter separation I hope to never experience.
Tomorrow we help a friend break down his household. Dinner plates wrapped in newsprint. Photos, the ones not destroyed by fury, in boxes. Stuffed animals tossed in big black slippery garbage bags. Rugs rolled tight. Letters thrown out. Cats in carriers. Kids with the babysitter. Ex-wife far absent. Removed.
In theory I have gone through something very similar. I even joke, “I lost that in the divorce” when I remember using something I no longer own. I remember it like it was yesterday. Halloween. Friends helped me pack. Scolded me when I took one knife, one fork, one spoon (why need more? I sobbed). Splitting the music. He got Elton John. He enjoy(s?)ed him more. I stole his Natalie Merchant everything. Did he ever notice? Fukc him. He wasn’t there to protest. My one mean thing in a separation otherwise so polite.
I think of my friend and the divorce we will be packing up. We should celebrate it. Instead I think about waste. Time. Money. Love. Wasted. In the time it took to change the locks a marriage was over; a family dismantled. A home that took years to build, to nurture, to protect was brought down in a matter of mere minutes. Four little words typed out for the world to see. I. Want. You. More. It’s the More that did it. The decision to chose one over the other and suddenly it’s over. Funny how he was willing to overlook the cheating but drew the line at being second best.
One of my oldest friends made me buy new silverware. The set is now scattered. Work. Monhegan. But, I have kept one spoon as a reminder. It only takes a second to break down the palace.