2003-07-21 - 6:40 p.m.
I was supposed to leave for Mexico on July 19.
But on the morning of the 18th, I was surprised by a long-ass letter from my ex-husband full of apologies and assorted bullshit, including how much he misses me and various rehashings of our issues. About a relationship that's been dead and buried for a year and a half.
You know how it feels when you finally get over something. The first time, living it, can be quite unpleasant. The second time, remembering, is sometimes worse. You go over it again and again and maybe by the 8th or the 100th or the millionth time, that's it. You've had enough.
And then it rears back and punches you in the stomach.
I felt a little frozen, a little sick.
Finished packing. Celebrated with a friend when she converted to Judaism. Left my prescription sunglasses on the floor of the syngogue. Managed to get about an hour's sleep that night.
So I left on the 20th instead.
