Last week we celebrated the national holiday known as Independence Day, which I prefer to rename, Interdependence Day.  Nonetheless, it had additional significance for me this year on a personal level as it marked 6 months since the day I was terminated from the college and the ensuing renovation of a life built in vain.  I’m sitting here in Wegman’s cafe tapping into their Wi-Fi signal sipping a mango fruit smoothie with The Grateful Dead on You Tube churning out a rare live rendition of Rubin & Cherise from an Orlando 1991 show.  It was here that I made my first stop as I was shown the door on the job, pausing to absorb the shock of the news, although it really came as no surprise, it remained surreal for a few moments.  I recall leafing through a book I’d just been handed the evening before, The Second Coming, penned by a friend’s brother.  I read intermittently for an hour or so, pausing to reflect and consider my next move, before heading home to deliver the news in person to my now ex-wife.  I chuckle to this day recollecting how her jaw dropped exclaiming, “We’re fucked now.”  She had just lost her employment 2 weeks prior and upon making her statement of the obvious I’d thought to myself, “Yeah we are, except it is no longer you and me.”

I am now officially divorced as of June 19th, 2012 and have returned to the ranks of eligible bachelor.  Last night I was up late in my cameo appearance as a doorman at The Irishman to assist with the above average crowd flow spilling in from Old Homes Days.  We have our Kennedy cousins visiting from St. Louis and had them out on the town.  I lost count on how many ladies hit on me either on their way into the establishment, or later in the evening after my shift as I enjoyed the company of family and friends at the bar.  While certainly fodder for the ego, it does little to assuage the emptiness and grieving that percolates at times, like now as I reflect on what had been.  The house is nearly barren of furniture, save for the bed, a dormant flat screen TV and a sofa.  I’ve been meditating in a wooden chair in an empty dining room upon my visits to the house as I retrieve the mail, water the landscaping and do loads of wash.  Tonight I will be sleeping over as the beach house has been rented out to some of my parents’ friends for the week.  It will offer another opportunity for healing and reconciliation as I allow the emptiness in my heart to fill with a new appreciation for myself and this life.

I’m considering writing a letter to my ex-wife as we haven’t spoken much since the divorce was finalized.  We did agree the week before last to remain “friends”, yet her unresponsivness to follow-up texts indicates to the contrary.  Perhaps it is too soon for redefining the relationship amid the emotional fallout, or perhaps she really is not interested in a friendship.  Time will tell.  I do miss the dog, Mela Bean, and have a bag of treats laying on the back seat of my truck awaiting her presence.  We still have the house to manage, or at least I’ve been left to manage it.  I have a couple of parties interested in renting, although I would so much rather sell and be done with it.  I had my buddy Mark drop by this afternoon to discuss replacing the spiral staircase with a conventional one.  My eyes are heavy with exhaustion and I’m running on empty.  The cup remains half full.

In common wealth,

Cherokee Proverb:

“A woman’s Highest Calling
is to lead a man to his Soul,
so as to Unite him with Source.
Her lowest calling is to seduce, separating man from his Soul and leave him aimlessly wandering.
A man’s Highest Calling is to protect woman so she is free to walk the earth unharmed.
Man’s lowest calling it to ambush and force his way into a woman.” ♥ ♥ ♥