Though Good Friday does not land on the same day (or even the
same month) each year, my divorce was on a Good Friday, so I consider it my
anniversary. This year, my anniversary began waking up after a full night’s
sleep. That still feels like a luxury to me. I opened an email I received from
a woman who is part of a comedy group. She was responding to an inquiry from
me. She thanked me for my communication and told me she’d have me on a comedy
show in the summer. That was a really great way for me to have started my day.
Then I had to meet a co-worker to give him some papers. He was
coming to the front of my house which made it real easy on me. He also happens
to be a pastor. Though I do not follow a religion (other than the Golden Rule)
and he and I were not born into the same religion, I find him very comforting.
I told him what Good Friday meant to me, and he laughed. I said, “I know that’s
not what the religion had in mind.” Then he, in his way, connected it by saying
it was the end of one thing to be followed by something better. He emphasized
“better.” I said that just coming home to me is better since I’m a nice gal. I
let him know that though I had no religious connection, hearing what he
said did feel comforting.
I was meeting with my best friend for breakfast and for doing
some chores together for me. I am more challenged by some daily tasks
than I used to be. I’m still in process of finding my way back to me. (When I
speak to God, after safety and health for my son and me, I typically ask God to
help my son find his way back to himself, his own heart, and reclaim his loving
soul.)
Before my buddy and I met, I wanted to accomplish something I
had been neglecting (there are many choices, unfortunately). I turned one
disaster area into a sparkling, good to the touch, once again usable area. That
felt so lifting to my spirit. Then I did other stuff and got five bags of
garbage out. Whew.
My buddy and I enjoyed each other’s company as we typically
do. We shared our current happenings. We find humor where we can when we can. I
can’t be thankful enough for such a wonderful friendship. We managed to buy
some stuff I needed, from a fly swatter to lightbulbs and all sorts of things
like that. He did things for me in the apartment. He is such a brother to me.
After we parted, I bought fuchsia flowers for myself. I also
bought a bottle of wine.
I managed to fill a couple of more bags of garbage. This time
when I took it in the alley of my building, a rat ran by, I screamed, set the
bags down on the ground, and scooted out of there.
That evening I had plans with Debbie Bazza. We went to an open
mic in New Rochelle. I met other people doing comedy which is always a good
thing. Then Debbie and I went to one of my favorite places – the Starving
Artists’ Café on City Island. She was planning to drive me to a point where
instead of 3 buses, I’d only have to take 2 buses back home. However, after
drinking some, I wanted to stay past the time she wanted to. So I was willing
to take the 3 buses. But Debbie asked her friend to drop me where she would
have. That was nice. I was good with that. But when it came time to leave, I
was offered a ride all the way home by one of the musicians. I accepted.
The ride home was comfortable. Conversation felt easy. Driving
wasn’t frightening. I asked if I can contribute to gas costs. He said no. Then when
we were already on my block, he asked me something that felt uncomfortable,
over the line, and disappointing. My eyes must’ve bulged. He swore that it was
a joke because in my comedy I mentioned a penis-free zone. I told him the zone
was real. (It is those attitudes and comments and the hurt they cause that is
part of why the zone exists.) He was laughing and apologizing. I really felt he was
regretful because up until then, it felt nice. He even seemed like he’d be snuggly.
When I got out of the car, he didn’t just zip away. He waited until I got
inside. I wanted that to speak louder to me than his turn-off comment. I turned
around and waved goodbye.
I came home to me, my somewhat improved apartment, and my
beautiful fuchsia flowers.
