My mother used to gush about how well beer went with chocolate and I agreed, so every time I enjoy a nice amber ale and there’s chocolate nearby, I have to indulge. It’s the little things like this that make me feel closer to her. I wish I could have introduced her to how good chocolate is with wine, though – especially dark chocolate with red wine!

The last gift she ever gave me was a set of decorative, pewter measuring spoons with etched hearts all over them. Every time I reach for those hanging in my kitchen, I taste the familiarity of the bittersweet memory. I had just moved to Brooklyn and she mailed them to me the way we used to mail each other during my college years. When I retrieved the large, white business envelope from my mailbox on that drab, New York winter day, I could see and feel the awkwardness of its shape – it certainly wasn’t just a greeting card inside there. Little did I know that was the last time I’d ever receive mail from my mother.


She loved having her hair brushed or played with, so every time someone brushes or plays with my hair, I feel a pang of guilt for each time I denied my mother that simple, temporary joy. I’d give anything to feel her hair between my fingers, to run a brush through the length of her locks.

Whenever I’m at the beach, I look down in pursuit of the smooth, colorful sea glass my mother collected and loved so much. I recall her joyful smile while lounging in the sand and soaking up the sun one morning on a beach in Malibu, her ability to enjoy the silence that was so opposite of my inability. I wish she were around to teach me how she did it and to tell me what she enjoyed most about it.


It is all about the little things and there’s nothing like losing the most important person in your life to make you realize this. If she were still alive, would snail mail mean as much to me? Would I still deny brushing her hair whenever she’d ask? Would chocolate be just another snack and would I even look for sea glass when perusing coastal lands? The truth is the little things have always meant a lot to me even before losing her but their meaning is so much deeper now, so much more sentient.


Snail Mail

This evening, I received a single piece of mail in my mailbox – a piece of mail I have been waiting to receive for a little over three months. After eight weeks, I gave up any anticipation of receiving this piece of mail but, finally, I have received this piece of mail from the Los Angeles superior court stating their approval of our request to enter what is known as default.

I’ll spare you the legal jargon and get right to the point – this means my divorce case is entering the final judgment period which after all of the fiery hoops I feel as if I’ve been jumping through, this will hopefully lean toward the smoother, uphill slope. This also means that my nightly consumption of wine is of the celebratory variety.

Last week, David text me a nasty response to a text message I had initially sent him asking for more information regarding his court visit. In a nutshell, he stated that he didn’t know what had motivated me to “begin cooperating” all of a sudden and doesn’t really care but that he doesn’t like hearing from me probably just as much as I don’t like hearing from him.

I chuckle a little every time I think of his message simply because of how undeserved and inaccurate his statements were. Cooperating isn’t even an appropriate term to use given the fact that the reason I wasn’t moving forward was simply due to financial hardship and financial hardship alone. He knew this – I informed him and I have the text messages to prove it. In fact, about a year ago, he even sent a text message claiming his understanding and patience with my situation.


I guess his patience ran out. Well, he could have filed default a long time ago without my “cooperation” so what is it they say these days? Sorry, not sorry.

And as far as hearing from each other, I assure you, dear readers, no one dislikes hearing from the other more than I dislike hearing from David but I know that I won’t stop hearing from him until this divorce is final so until then, I’ll just have to suck it up.  All business mindset – that’s how I get through it. That, and reminding myself that his main purpose in my life was to serve as a grand distraction from the tragedy that began to unfold in 2010 after my mama was diagnosed with stage four metastatic lung cancer. Though it makes complete sense, it’s unfortunate that such a tragedy required sending someone into my life that I would grow to hate more than anyone I have ever hated.

Cheers to today’s snail mail! *as I raise my wine glass to my lips*