So there I was, on my way home. I had spent the day at the homeschool convention, and it had been a good day. My mind was awhirl with all the ideas, the encouragement, and the sheer possibilities. On the passenger’s seat next to me was a stack of curriculum that I couldn’t wait to get home and page through.
I stopped at a light and watched the birds. During the summer in Colorado birds occupy the intersections. Swallows, I think. Swift little things with elegant tiny curves of wings. They hunt the bugs that congregate at intersections. Something about the air being warmer there.
Anyhow, these birds swoop and dive and generally make a spectacle of themselves at the intersections all summer long. Perhaps this is true of all cities’ intersections. I don’t know. I’ve just come to be aware of it here, in the last few years.
I love the swallows. I lean way over to peer up into the sky so I can see their gymnastics. I glance around to see how many other people are appreciating. I glow with love for those who do.

But then the light changed, as lights will. I drove on, and glanced to my left. Where I saw the building. The building I had gone to with my ex to get our marriage license, nine years ago. Although my thoughts had been miles away from HIM and the memories and all of that stuff, there I was. Jolted in an instant back to that life. To everything that was supposed to be. Remembering how bad it all went.
I am stronger by far than I once was. All I did was take a deep breath, steady my heart, and drive on. The rest of my day was fine. The air at the next intersection was still spangled with swallows. I turned deliberately back to thoughts of the future. It was just a dark spot on an otherwise stellar day.
That’s the thing about divorce. It looks like freedom, but it’s not. Not really. The relationship goes on.

But only until death do you part.