It's the Little Things

One thing: A tiny, Japanese fan-shaped card 

Today is Mangala's birthday.  Happy Birthday!  But what do you do for the birthday of someone who has been your family, your partner for eleven years and who now,according to some papers pending in a courthouse, is soon to be not-family?  How is it even possible to un-family someone?  In my mind, family is family so the concept is rather hard to comprehend.  I wasn't sure how to respond to a birthday.

I decided to give a card.  I made a couple vouchers that can be redeemed at a later time - I'll bake some cookies when you want,  When you know what you need for your new home, I will get you some kitchen supplies.  That's useful, right?  That's ok for family who isn't going to be family anymore, isn't it?

But the card.  Dang it.  The card nearly took me down.  Looking through my card stash, I came across the little, fan-shaped Japanese card that I've been carrying around for eleven years.  I bought it for Mangala soon after we got married.  We didn't know each other very well so I looked for things that fit the few things I knew about him.  He seemed to like Japanese stuff.  So I got this weird, little card to give him on his birthday and then, for some reason, I never gave it to him.  Instead, I have kept it in my card stash all these years, moving it from house to house, desk to desk.  So I found it today and figured I may as well go ahead and finally give it to him. The thing was I could remember the me that bought for him, remember the newness and possibility, remember that something was starting for us.  At that time, I never would have imagined that when I gave him the card, we would be getting divorced.

Oh, tiny fan-shaped card, who knew this was your destiny?  Who knew you would make me cry so much in 2012?

Another thing: A golden bookmark with the silhouette of a girl on a bike

It was given to me by Ms. Berry, my 7th and 8th grade Journalism teacher.  She gifted all of the "graduating" eighth graders with a bookmark, each one showing a different image that had something to do with them personally.  She gave me the girl on the bike because she said she thought I was "going somewhere with writing."  It meant so much to me that I kept it in a special keepsake box, another thing I moved around with me through the years.  Only in the last couple years did I take it out of the box and start using it.  But at some point, me and writing began to wrestle more.  And now me and life are wrestling.  And as the wrestling has become rougher and more messy, the golden bookmark and all that it means has fallen on the floor and gotten pretty mangled.  I would see it there on the floor, with a hundred other things that are there on the floor too.  I would see it and just leave it.  Thinking It used to mean something.  I used to be going somewhere.  Now what?  Now where?  No where.

But today I saw it and I picked it up.  I straightened it out a bit.  It is still bent and warped.  It will never be the same.  But it is still there.  And the girl is still riding.  And, I suppose, so am I.