Shouldn't…but Do

Yesterday while procuring supplies for the 4th of July, another car rear-ended mine at a stop sign.

A young man, with a graduated driver license, was not watching the road, improper lookout, they used to call it.  Young energy bumping up against the rules.

No one likes car accidents, even minor fender-benders.  In addition to physical or automobile damage, accidents immediately alter reality.  At least for me.  The sickening thud that feels and sounds like nothing else, creates a distorted oasis of reality around involved parties and cars.

I am sensitive to distorted reality. Two years of  inflamed, inappropriate divorce rhetoric gives stark evidence to the damage  people can wreck on the lives of others.

Although the bump in this case nary made a scratch, I dutifully copied down the apologetic young man’s contact and insurance information.  I recognized his last name and inquired.  Yes, he is the nephew of the fellow who owns and runs the automotive repair shop here in town.  Best car maintenance I ever experienced, fine people, great service.

I finished writing down the information, told him to give my name and number to  his mom, whose insurance information I had just recorded.  It was not my place to deliver the lecture on paying attention – but I am guessing she will.

With the exchange of information, the distortion receded.  A mistake was made, examined by the parties, apologies, and a new connection made.

The ease with which this shock dissipated helped me.  Daily challenges shape perception and response.  Some mistakes are to be forgotten, others are important to remember. Destiny is figuring out  which is which.

I left the young man and his friend with a smile and a wish for their happy 4th of July.

A mom checks on a summer camp registration.   Big Mac lunch for the man out on business calls.  Air conditioning quit – a small part replaced – luckily, still under warranty.  A haircut that needs to get scheduled.

Deeds of the everyday.  Undertaken, typically forgotten.  Sometimes but rarely momentous.

Living out days, spinning small memories that represent the biggest part of life.  The background of doing, breathing and being.

Call it mundane – call it the very best of life.

Yesterday, on June 27, I was divorced.  Sometime in the afternoon a thoughtful Circuit Court judge granted me relief from ties that bound too long.  That same judge, earlier in the day, resolved a small but important issue in favor of my children, as I had wished.

It has been almost two years since X announced his departure – eons ago – and I am well into a new life.  I have dreaded many days, seen the demonic, been saved over and over by friends, and find myself now on dry land, moving forward under my own power – always with a little help from my friends.

Someone commented this afternoon the legality of divorce seemed anti-climactic.  But the news instantly opened in me empty miles of stretching sage-brush lined road, as is found in the west.

I never knew X – he never knew me – and the masque is now miles behind in the rear view.

I am free.

They say if you gaze into a mirror long enough, you eventually stop recognizing yourself.  I know this to be true.

It works with hands too.

Try this at home – hold out your hand, palm toward you and stretch out your fingers.  Watch for awhile, the palm seems to warm – as if returning your gaze.

It is not you – it is your hand.  You are part of the same being, but it is not you.  It is, however, matter that knows you, thus you and your hand together,  are embodied.

Think of the life that hand has lived, what it has done, how it expressed you, felt for you, kept you occupied.  It carries out thoughts and a million other things.  A marvelous extension, one and the same.

Gaze long enough, you realize fingers are miraculous – tissue, bone, blood – each part of the body a step,  an edge, a movement, into space beyond we who utilize vocal cords to speak,  legs to walk.

And hands to hold.  Wonderful thing about hands,  we can hold our own in a clasp, or a prayer, or  hold the hand of another – one and the same.

You Are Here

The words jumped off the bookmark my youngest son received as a reading incentive from the library.  Depicted in anime style, friendly young adult characters grace the slip of cardstock that bears only those words.

Signs.  Accidental but provocative moments when deep attention stirs.  Brilliance.  Three common words that strung together not only mark the spot, but declare a presence.

You Are Here.