I gazed out of the ten-foot glass window of my living room in Pomona, N.Y. Everything was clear, but I couldn’t focus. My past was so close to my present. Everything was happening so fast that I never had time to mentally catch up. What seemed to be the past ten years of my life was slowly becoming thousands of memories lost. I was in a daze. My marriage had come to an end. The papers were finally signed and now I was leaving the place that used to be our happy home. I never thought this day would ever materialize, but it was here and I was moving on.
The sound of tape pulling and tearing coupled with moving men rambunctiously screaming instructions and directions over each other’s heads was the main audio in my soon-to-be vacant marital residence. I was only in my sixth hour of packing up nine years of belongings from a 21,000 square-foot mansion. I had another nine hours left and I was already exhausted, mentally and physically. My to-do list was never ending and I felt as if I was dragging my feet when in reality I was moving around the house at lighting speed.
I reached below my waist to pull up my denim shorts, which were constantly testing the laws of gravity. A girl’s gotta eat, but within months of my union’s deterioration, hunger pains would take a backseat to the emotional kind and a rapid weight loss ensued. I wanted to lose a few pounds but not under these stressful circumstances. I embraced it, though. I just never had time to go purchase better fitting jeans.
My cell phone rang, and as I managed to grab the phone and hold up my pants, I pressed the talk button.
“Hello,” I said.