my long-awaited divorce is, so it would seem, a few days away. i've waited nearly 603 days for this to happen. i couldn't stop smiling when my lawyer called to say we finally have our day in court.
ummm.... then what?
just last saturday i was working on the room that will be my studio - going through boxes and bins that have been in storage for ages. i found pictures of long-ago boyfriends (one of whom, oddly, contacted me on monday - after nary a word for the last 7 or so years). i found the decorative paper from between the bundles of newspapers i delivered every morning. i found the rusted landscape of linoleum that lined my 50s metal kitchen cabinet (under the sink, where the water leaked and gathered). i'd quarantined that thing for about 2 years before i used any of it in my work. at the time it was as disgusting as it was beautiful. now, it's just beautiful (this sometimes happens and it's really, really good). i found pieces of tin, old tile, innumerable architectural salvage finds, and paper, paper, paper. thrilling beyond words.
in all those gorgeous textures, i came upon my wedding tiara. i tried it on. i put it on shelby's little bean of a head. it gleamed so brightly amid all that competing decay. funny that this object means less now than all the cast-offs and half-ideas i've been hoarding and carting for so very long.
my impending divorce has been my identity for quite a while now - in fact, for the whole of the time i've lived here. i wonder how i'll be when it's finally done. my invisible cloak will drop and i'll find out what it's like to be free of the weight of it. i've been making my way here in spa city. connecting, learning, trusting - occasionally, distrusting - making things happen in new ways. even so, i feel surprisingly vulnerable right now. as certain as i am that the marriage wasn't good or right, it's been a form of protection.
i love that the challenges i've had over the course of my life have helped me realize any pain or vulnerability i feel doesn't define me. what defines me is where i go now that the weight of that cloak is falling away. i turn to the half-ideas and see if they're ready now, finally; if they've matured and ripened in all this time of decay and disuse.
i keep the tiara, of course, and i figure out what it means to be wholly myself again.
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