Five More Days

I said goodbye to Jerry today. He's off to Mardi Gras for a four day weekend. I suppose I could be a little hurt that he won't be around to see me off when I leave for the three month wine tour, but who could be upset with someone for going to Mardi Gras this year? It's a pilgrimage, hell, almost a patriotic duty. I'd go, too, but I'm headed west. We spent the evening together, and while I thought: wow, this is it, we're getting divorced, I'm going away for so long...shit: I should be really upset, I wasn't. Instead of some sit-down, talk-about goodbye tearfest, we ate canned field peas and collard greens then snoozed together in front of teevee. I rubbed a knot in his back. We didn't say much, but smiled at one another a lot. It was peaceful and reassuring, and there wasn't room for anger or sadness.

I leave in five days.

Nothing will be the same when I return. I won't be married. I'll own a house. I will have changed. But I haven't the faintest idea how yet. Right now, I'm just thankin' the Christ Child that I've passed through the Free Floating Anxiety period. That was a bitch, thinking that there was all this stuff I was forgetting to do when there wasn't. I'm pretty calm now, gettin' down to thinking of which food bars I wanna buy for the road.