I flat out refuse to cry

Our lawyer emailed me today. And while I no longer freeze when I see his name in my mailbox tucked maliciously among emails from friends and family, I do still take a breath before opening them. We approach the end of this process. He asked me today for our marriage license before dropping off at court the mountains of paperwork which has been meticulously filled out in a funny balance of it aching more the closer it gets to resolution... which is not what I expected.

I got home and sorted through a box I have not opened since December when I left. It was a funny archeological expedition through layers of sediment. I could remember in reverse how I untangled our filing cabinet in Boston... Financial paperwork first, taxes, letters. I kept getting stabbed with a dull knife by photos, notes from friends on the occasion of our wedding. Killed when I found a note from him that seemed so sweet at the time... but it was right before our dissolving - so I know now how much he didn't mean it. Who can write a note like that and leave it on a bedside table... and not mean it?

I had this funny panic which I shared with Landry this afternoon... that the license would get lost, or damaged in the mail or something... and then I realized tonight that it didn't matter if it did. And I am aching knowing it is folded with uneven creases in an envelope too small to contain it... waiting to get dropped in the graffiti covered mailbox on 4th and A at 8:30.

Fucker.