Spring is in the air

Spring sprang for real today here in New York. I wore yellow to celebrate. And for once, I didn't have to spend the entire day in a windowless rehearsal room, only to emerge into the chilly air after the sun has gone down. No, today we got out of rehearsal early. 3 HOURS early. I brought my sandwich outside and ate it on the Plaza in the sunshine. And then I took a long walk through Central Park (along with every other person in the entire city), and sat on a park bench to read my Kindle. Just as evening fell and a chill settled into the air, I met The Fashionista for moules frites and Stellas on the Upper West Side in one of those restaurants that opens its entire front wall when the weather's nice. Simply put, it was a great day—even the obscene amount of time it took me to travel from 86th Street to my apartment couldn't get me down.

Two years ago today I went to the courthouse in downtown Houston to finalize my divorce. Then I wrote about it here. It's amazing for me to re-read that post and see that, even when it was all so fresh and painful, I already had a glimmer of hope. I already knew that I was going to be okay. And I was right. I am okay. I'm more than okay. I haven't cried today. In fact, I hardly ever cry anymore about my divorce, what might have been or what should have been. Which isn't to say that I don't regret it. I think I always will, on some level. But I have, for the most part, accepted that this is part of the story of my life. It's not the story I thought I would be telling, not by a long shot, but every good story needs conflict, right?

Today my story goes like this: I thought it would be a hard day for me, like it was last year. I expected to brood, or weep, or both. But then the sun came out, and instead of this being a day all about the end of my marriage, today became a day all about the beginning of Spring.