I woke up around 6AM to sounds coming from the kitchen. I crawled out of my futon bed, which now has become our living room couch since we sold our sofa and loveseat in a big yard sale over the weekend. I went to the bathroom and began to shave, until I heard a tap on the door—my 8-year old son. I let him use the bathroom while I turned the light on above the fishtank and philodendron. After shaving I spent about 10 to 12 minutes warming up with Qi Gong exercises and a few dozen sit-ups, then I put on my winter cap and my alpaca coat before kneeling down for a few minutes of meditation. Almost everyone meditates in the lotus position (what my son calls “criss cross applesauce”) but I was taught meditating with the feet tucked under the buttocks back when I first took a karate class long ago, and its just more comfortable for me, at least until my legs fall asleep, then the lotus position wins. There wasn’t much to choose from for breakfast, so I just had a bowl of cereal with soy milk. I gave my son a big hug as he went off to the bus-stop, then settled down to a cup of hot tea to read a few pages from “The Cloud of Unknowing.” I checked email, Facebook, WordPress & RedBubble, then fed the fish and got dressed for the day’s event.
When my soon-to-be-ex-wife and I realized we were ahead of schedule, we stopped at the “Hot Rod Café,” the only eatery on a long stretch of automotive shops and other industrial businesses. Despite the charming décor and the NASCAR channel on, we got two croissants to go, and headed to downtown Tucson. After a brisk walk from the parking garage two blocks to the courthouse, we entered and immediately took off our coats and put all of our personal items in a container to be scanned. Just now I have realized that we never reclaimed the little credit-card-sized swiss tool kit they confiscated. Lord knows what havoc could have been wreaked with that inch-long pair of scissors. We turned in our papers at the clerks office and found a bench where we could eat our croissants and wait for our name to be called. We were called into the courtroom along with five other default cases and one name change—it was 10:40AM. By 11AM we were facing the judge, asked about a dozen yes or no obligatory questions…stamp, stamp, sign, sign, stamp. Voila’, we were divorced.
We stopped at the grocery store on the way home, made some quick burritos for lunch, and napped while watching an old Pedro Infante movie on the PC (since we sold both TVs at the yard sale.) At 2:30PM I got up to practice my guitar for a while before showering and dressing for work. When I reached the street corner, I waved at my ex-wife who was waiting at the bus-stop for my son to arrive from school. I’ve been working as shift manager here at Arbys. Don’t ask me how I ended up in fast food, but I must say there is something satisfying about serving the public. I’ll never be tempted to volunteer at a soup kitchen—I’ve done my time. Oh sure, these folks aren’t homeless, but they are equally needy and forlorn in their own ways.
After the yard sale weekend and the divorce proceedings, I’ve been really tired this evening, but writing this post in my spare moments has kept me awake. Today wasn’t difficult, next week will be moreso: that’s when I have to put my son and ex on the plane bound for Peru, where they plan to live from now on. That will be hard. But tonight and tomorrow I get to rest up, then I’ll take my son up to Mt. Lemmon where he can play in the snow for the last time in who knows when. But really, who knows? If there is anything I’ve learned in half a century on this planet, its this: you never know.