Today’s been another difficult day. Mostly I have stopped talking about this stuff here, or with friends. But a couple of things happened that were especially hard.

First though, great news: I have MY OWN BED. This will be bed number 10 in about two weeks, but this one is MINE MINE MINE and I love having my own nest. Even though there is so much work yet to be done–what with moving out of Perry’s house and settling into my little attic hovel–I am finally feeliing the energy that comes only with moving TO someplace rather than just FROM someplace. Of course, this is not my permanent landing pad, but I will cozy up here for awhile and begin my book project.

Which leads me to the first of the two difficult parts of the day. Perry and I have been exchanging documents by email. Oh, right. I filed a “Petition for Dissolution” back on Wednesday. And there’s been bad weather in Seattle ever since and that’s why we’ve been emailing documents. And in one of his emails he mentioned that he could have an alimony check for me next time we see each other.

And that’s when one more aspect of this whole freaking divorce thing kicked me.

I never envisioned EVER collecting alimony. First off, it seems tawdry somehow. Can’t explain that, but that was the sensation I got when I read his email. More importantly though, what a clincher–that this marriage is so over that my (soon to be ex) husband is going to be writing me checks.

Mind you, I can use the money. Yeah, I could run out and get employment of some kind, but sorry, that’s not the way this was supposed to go. But the bigger glitch is that I am a wreck. I’ll just tell you. I’m putting on a good face and my friends and family prop me up real good, but I am a wreck. So, the thought of seeking (and holding) a job rather undoes me. And the thought of hunkering down for a bit and just working alone with words, that seems theraputic.

Okay, so thing two that happened today, which I thought was going to be theraputic. Just a simple walk through the snow–all dark and glowing and snowing outside. Still and quiet. The world thick and heavy with transformation–branches forced to bend low and interesting shadows of branches cast by streetlights. So much beauty.

But I was walking alone, and as much as I was intent on absorbing the “now” of the snow, I was struck immediately by the absence of my husband. Had this been just two months ago, we would have been walking through it together, sharing it, remarking on the shadows laced on the ground and kicking the powder snow into the air as we walked.

But I was walking alone.

And I kept trying to shake the hollowness of Perry’s absence, but it just kept trailing along with me.

So I turned the corner and aimed myself back to the house, to tuck in dry and warm, and ponder my changing life.