Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I would send you a newly sharpened bouquet of pencils, if I knew your name and address

Classes reconvened today, and even though I occupied a seat in four this summer, it seems as though an era has passed since I was last in the presence of my campus home. If one considers three months an "era," then "seeming" would become an actuality...and in a round about way, the excitement of a homecoming becomes less unfounded. I opted for night classes between semesters, the kind that meet at satellite campuses and are mostly filled with middle-aged professionals. They don't lend the same collegiate feel. I've been homesick.

It's no secret that I botched the summer session originally intended to aid in December's graduation. I kind of want to kick myself when I think about it. But what's done is done and doting on the loss will not rewrite the current reality of an additional semester. May 2008 can't come quickly enough! I shamelessly blame my parents.


It was a Thursday night as I sat in my car beneath the dense heat of summer, and in a continuous flow of garrulous chatter, she slipped in divorce - effortlessly.


There it was in it's finite moment - the verdict. From her lips it flowed so smoothly, and almost literally knocked the wind from my lungs. OK, so it wasn't a startling surprise since they have harbored a hatred for one another since...well, sometime prior to my existence. Despite this previous notion, it was nonetheless far more final than the talk of "separation" ever was. It poured from her mouth and settled in my heart, stale like set concrete. It has hindered my every move since, and has made appearances throughout my summer weeks under the guise of apathy.

So today when I (finally) parked my car, and (finally) reached the safe haven of the School of Business, and (finally) took a seat in a familiar classroom, it was as though my subconscious mind permitted my lungs to again breathe freely.

Friends and family have afforded a barrage of advice on what to say, the optimal parameters for relationship boundaries, how not to be pulled into the middle of the hot-zone of parental hostility, etc. I have yet to master the methods, but paralysis was never an acceptable option.

I am not a failure and I will prove that to myself in the 16 weeks of unmolested opportunity that lay before me.

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