the close of a chapter

I came home tonight to a thin, nondescript letter that had my full name, including middle names, handwritten on the envelope. It didn't look official in any way. So I was surprised when I opened it. The first thing I noticed was the seal. The second thing I noticed was the legal language. The third thing I noticed was that I'd stopped breathing.

On August 31, the order will be in force, and I will be divorced.

I cried. I texted my best friend. I called another friend. I mowed the lawn, because that's what needed doing.

I came back inside to a text that said, Necessary closure if you're going to move forward and that includes a future that is status quo or completely different. I cried some more. It is absolutely true. No matter what I do tomorrow, or next month, or next year, this part needs to be behind me. I have already begun the next part.

So that chapter closes with these words: