
Divorced is like my favorite fourth grade word:denouement--the final resolution that comes after the falling action in a book or play. The difference is denouement is a lovely word that makes you want to say it five times fast. As one sound melts into the next, you become a Frenchmen, philosopher, and poet in just three syllables.
Divorced is a word that everyone would rather you not say, unless you have something delicious and salacious to report. No one appreciates the dull depressing-ness of day-to-day-divorced, and so it is said quietly, and only when unavoidable like the another unpleasantly existential word: diarrhea.
Denouement can be a welcomed thing when you have been sitting too long and are eager to send the actors on their way and go home, or when it marks a finished reading assignment. But divorced is a resolution that comes with too many pages remaining. And so day-to-day you plan meals, and birthdays, and holidays, but they seem to be after the fact, like you are trying to create business for characters who should have already left the stage.
If divorced were a short story then it would be a tragedy. But actually it is just an event in a saga--despite its apparent willingness to be an epitaph.

But in the meantime, here is October in medias res.



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