Alice...

There was Alice In Wonderland, and then there was Alice Through the Looking Glass. Everything experienced backwards, upside down, back to front. Confusion. Struggle.

It sometimes seems like meeting someone, falling in love, getting married is like Wonderland. And divorce: it’s a bit like the Looking Glass. Everything is backwards. You are unpicking what you created. Life is suddenly upside down. Confusion. Plenty of struggle.

When you get together with someone, there are so many firsts. First date, first kiss, first time making love. And through the looking glass, there are firsts too. First night alone. First mail at your new address. First anniversary of leaving.

Some of the firsts on both sides of the looking glass are more subtle, but they can be more privately meaningful. First time saying “we.” First time saying “boyfriend.” First time buying something at the grocery store that your new love eats but you don’t.

Tonight I had a first that I celebrated quietly. It would not show up on any timeline, but it was significant to me. After 20 months, first time dropping my daughter over to her dad’s and driving away from my old house without a feeling of wrenching sadness; without tears. Since she started driving a year ago, I haven’t had to go back there much. In the beginning, it was a lot harder. But last night, I drove down the hill from the house I lived in for 17 years, and I heard myself saying aloud “don’t cry, don’t cry.” Then I realized I actually didn’t want to cry. I was listening to a favorite song, and I sang it happily as I drove down Meadow Way and out of my old neighborhood in the dark of a random Saturday evening.

I had taken my daughter to the market on the way to her dad’s: she was drooping and exhausted, having sat her SAT this morning and clearly not eaten enough all day. I bought her hot chicken and dolmas and blueberries and she ate in the car and perked up visibly. She was happy to be going to her dad’s. I was happy she was going to her dad’s, and had that filled-up mom feeling of having fed my child, nurtured her. She could have driven her own car, but I noticed in time that what she really needed was mom to drive her. I offered to pick her up tomorrow morning. Wonderland. And as I drove home to my own place, it felt a little like driving through the looking glass. The familiar San Geronimo Valley was no longer my home. Driving to a new home. Strange: bizarre even. But I was smiling like a cheshire cat.