This is Part Five of a Five Part Story!
CLICK HERE to read Part One
CLICK HERE to read Part Two
CLICK HERE to read Part Three
CLICK HERE to Read Part Four
Mother Nature and I were not in agreement on that beautiful day in May. She was right on schedule busily showing off her new spring wardrobe. I was still trying to get over the chill of the cold darkness that had followed me around for endless months.
A light breeze gently coaxed delicate pink blossoms stubbornly clinging to the branches of dogwoods, to fall to earth. The scent of freshly mowed grass was heavy. Birds joyfully dipped in and out of the tree branches, chirping and cooing love songs . . . their song reminding me that mine was about to die.
The fallen petals formed a carpet of pink along the pathway leading up to the staircase of the government building. (Were there any pink petals lining the silk aisle of the synagogue when I walked towards the Bema to become a wife? I can’t really remember.) I reached into my purse, pulling out the papers I had received the week before, instructing me to appear in Courtroom 1-A promptly at 1:00 p.m. I was early, hoping to arrive before he did but, there he was sitting on a bench just outside the doorway to Courtroom 1-A. Seeing him again after two years apart sent a tiny shiver of regret, of hesitancy, of ‘how the hell did I get here?’ muddling up my head . . . second guessing myself until I was totally exhausted.
He stood up. Wordlessly, he took my hand as the door to Courtroom 1-A opened. A uniformed Officer motioned for us to follow him towards a table and four chairs standing ready at the front of the room. Our attorneys were already busily shuffling papers, stoic and professional . . . without smiles, as they waited for us to join them at the table. “Please remain standing,” my attorney reminded me, “until the Judge enters from his Chambers and is seated.”
“This marriage is officially absolved,” the Judge announced, pounding his gavel to a hardwood block. The hearing was over. The marriage was over.
I walked down the path of pink petals and out of the government building. I made my way towards the gravel parking lot in back of the building. My hands trembled as I inserted the key into the door lock of my red Toyota. I settled into the driver’s seat. I placed my right foot on the brake pedal, turning the key in the ignition to the right. I checked the side and back mirrors and sat still a moment as I listened to the hum of the motor. There was a clear path to ease out of the parking spot, but I froze. I just froze.
I sat in my red Toyota staring out the front window, seeing nothing. I pressed my right foot down on the brake pedal. I turned the key in the ignition to the left. The hum of the motor died and my tears began.
The sun glared through the front window. The intensity of the sudden brightness seemed to dry the tears I had been shedding for the past ten minutes.
I reached for my sunglasses. I placed my right foot down on the brake pedal. I inserted the key into the ignition, twisting it to the right. The hum of the motor kicked in. I checked my side and rear view mirrors. There was a clear path to ease out of the parking spot. I backed the car out of the space. I turned left out of the lot. The road stretched out before me. The road ahead was probably bumpy, riddled with pot holes, branching off into bends I had never before dared to venture. Tugging harder on my safety belt, I drove straight ahead.
A light breeze gently coaxed delicate pink blossoms stubbornly clinging to the branches of dogwoods, to fall to earth. The scent of freshly mowed grass was heavy. Birds joyfully dipped in and out of the tree branches, chirping and cooing love songs . . . their song reminding me that mine was about to die.
The fallen petals formed a carpet of pink along the pathway leading up to the staircase of the government building. (Were there any pink petals lining the silk aisle of the synagogue when I walked towards the Bema to become a wife? I can’t really remember.) I reached into my purse, pulling out the papers I had received the week before, instructing me to appear in Courtroom 1-A promptly at 1:00 p.m. I was early, hoping to arrive before he did but, there he was sitting on a bench just outside the doorway to Courtroom 1-A. Seeing him again after two years apart sent a tiny shiver of regret, of hesitancy, of ‘how the hell did I get here?’ muddling up my head . . . second guessing myself until I was totally exhausted.
He stood up. Wordlessly, he took my hand as the door to Courtroom 1-A opened. A uniformed Officer motioned for us to follow him towards a table and four chairs standing ready at the front of the room. Our attorneys were already busily shuffling papers, stoic and professional . . . without smiles, as they waited for us to join them at the table. “Please remain standing,” my attorney reminded me, “until the Judge enters from his Chambers and is seated.”
“This marriage is officially absolved,” the Judge announced, pounding his gavel to a hardwood block. The hearing was over. The marriage was over.
I walked down the path of pink petals and out of the government building. I made my way towards the gravel parking lot in back of the building. My hands trembled as I inserted the key into the door lock of my red Toyota. I settled into the driver’s seat. I placed my right foot on the brake pedal, turning the key in the ignition to the right. I checked the side and back mirrors and sat still a moment as I listened to the hum of the motor. There was a clear path to ease out of the parking spot, but I froze. I just froze.
I sat in my red Toyota staring out the front window, seeing nothing. I pressed my right foot down on the brake pedal. I turned the key in the ignition to the left. The hum of the motor died and my tears began.
The sun glared through the front window. The intensity of the sudden brightness seemed to dry the tears I had been shedding for the past ten minutes.
I reached for my sunglasses. I placed my right foot down on the brake pedal. I inserted the key into the ignition, twisting it to the right. The hum of the motor kicked in. I checked my side and rear view mirrors. There was a clear path to ease out of the parking spot. I backed the car out of the space. I turned left out of the lot. The road stretched out before me. The road ahead was probably bumpy, riddled with pot holes, branching off into bends I had never before dared to venture. Tugging harder on my safety belt, I drove straight ahead.
© JeffResnick.com 2018
All Rights Reserved