One Week

In one week at this time, I'll be walking to the courthouse to meet my girlfriends, those ones closest to my heart that have stood by me through all this, good and bad.  We will do whatever it is that one does to get a divorce on the actual day - I suspect, sit on benches, feel uncomfortable, and wonder how long it is going to take.  From everything I've heard, it's mostly a formality (albeit a very important one).

I am worried about the pain of being there, and I expect to cry a smidge.  But just a smidge.  I am working so incredibly hard at creating this brand new life for myself, and I'm not running away from my marriage, I'm running into the arms of my life, embracing it, spinning it around.  I'm going to squeeze that life of mine so hard it will gasp, and then we might just cry again.  We're alive! 

And then those beloved girlfriends of mine and I are going to keep going, wipe those sad and happy tears and help me fix my mascara, and then we're going out to a chic French restaurant.  French, of course, because I'm going to France this year (my first overseas in over a decade!), and I'm celebrating that.  Chic, because my life was very un-chic before, and I'm working on it now.  Progress!  High heels, pencil skirt, red lipstick.  But also tailored blazer and pearls, because we don't want anybody to get the wrong idea.  ;-)

And I've lined up two possible dates, with different men.  I am not sure yet if I'm going to go, but it's nice to have offers from decent guys.

And I've got Valentine's plans.  Dinner in, with the red tablecloth and white linen napkins, the china and silver and crystal.  Maybe lobster tails.  And incredible dates - oh, not those two men, but my daughter and a dear friend of hers.  The friend's parents will go on a "real" date, and I'll entertain those beautiful girls, and it will be a bit campy too, with paper heart doilies and maybe Frank Sinatra.  (Or One Direction and the Austin and Ally soundtrack, if my girls have anything to say about it.)

One week 'til D-day.  I can't wait to get it behind me.  I hope nothing happens to derail it.  I hope that I don't get waves of memories - on the beach in bare feet and a big white dress on our wedding day, moving into "our" house that is now "my" house, watching him hold our daughter for the first time - that make me break down and sob.  It could have been so very, very, very different, and now we'll never know.

But I can't stay there, mustn't dwell.  I've got Life waiting - and we've got a date.