The Neville Brothers wailed on stage, as I navigated the crowd. It was one hell of a party. People dressed in business attire shook their grove things all over the dance floor. I made it to the door and as I walked out, my newly minted ex-husband was walking in with his date. I think that our expressions mirrored each other-shock.
I knew he would be at the mayoral inauguration party with “a friend.” I just figured that in a crowd of over 4000 we probably would not run into each other. I guess I figured that “friend” was just a friend, not some auburn haired petit hottie, in an almost electric blue halter dress. We said hello awkwardly and kept moving.
I am not sure how I am supposed to feel about seeing him with her. Did I think that he would slink away, into the outer darkness, a broken, lonely shell, never to date again? Shouldn’t I be happy that he met someone after all the sadness of our marriage? I guess so, but I did not want to see it, yet I guess that I needed to see it.
He seems to be moving forward with his life, and so should I. I think that I have been waiting for the blessing, and there she was, wearing an almost electric blue dress. I have been waiting for permission to toss off the garments of mourning and go forward. Now, it appears I have my permission and blessing, but I am not sure which direction I should go.
I am not sure why I have been waiting to move forward with my life, but at that moment, I realized that I had been waiting. During my marriage, I was looking for the sign from God that I needed to stay married. Before the separation, I was looking for the sign from God that I needed to end my marriage. After the official divorce, I was looking for the sign that I could move on. Each time the sign came, but not exactly the way I wanted it.
I was looking for the sign, and I got it. Frankly, I would have preferred the sign be something like Jason Stratham showing up on my front porch with roses. Instead, the sign is less subtle, not horrible but not what I wanted to see. Maybe signs are less a gentle nudge and more a slap across the face.
Had I missed those signs from God earlier, perhaps the more subtle ones? Or had I ignored them because I wanted them to be just the way I wanted them to be? I would have liked a letter from the Almighty stating: “Get moving, girl! Great stuff down this road!”
Nope. Instead, God gives his sign. There is no indication what lies ahead, but the sign stands in the fork of the road. Where do I go from here? I guess first I have to crawl out from under my desk. Then I have to open my eyes and see the signs that indicate the ending of one road and the entrance to another, and start again down the road.