“Keep It Together.”
I’m escorted past the reception desk in a downtown law firm, through a long hallway and into a large conference room.
There is a table the size of a small boat in the middle of the room and I’m asked to take a seat, someone will be with me in just a minute.
I sit down and look out the windows.
"Keep it together."
All my friends and family have said this phrase to me in one form or another over the past year.
They are worried that I’ll do something foolish like abandon my kids or hurt myself. I’m keeping it together and today will be no different.
Her lawyer arrives with a stack of papers and starts pulling the documents apart from the clip that holds the lot. She’s fanning them out in front of me. Stapled copies here, paper clipped groups there.
I’m asked to look through the files and she leaves the room for a moment.
I’m scanning the pages, but I’m not taking it in. The clips and fasteners are drawing my attention away from the words on the page.
I’m thinking about the paradox of the situation. The very documents that hold my family’s future are being held together by mundane stationery supplies.
I sign and date the divorce pages on the indicated lines and get up to leave.
“Keep it together.”