Refinancing

He called to check on the status of my paperwork. I've been kind of slow.

He first helped me refinance when I got divorced. It was a particular low.

Now, it's time to refinance again and his checking in serves as a milepost.

Remembering the last time, I can see I'm in a better place. And so is he.

Not everyone makes it through, he says, having just lost a friend to suicide.

Handsome, athletic, divorced, and just passed 50. He leaves three kids behind.

He himself lost his partner some time ago to a fentanyl overdose. No stranger.

January is especially hard for him, he tells me.

Are you seeing anyone, he asks me. Now why would I do that, I answer. 

We laugh. I tell him I notice things like the sun rising and setting. 

This morning, the pink sky along the ridge silhouetting the church steeple.

Those days are gone for me, I want to say, but I'm trying to keep it upbeat.

Yes, I did survive those years of watching my family dissolve, of

becoming a stranger to myself, of financial collapse and of the taste of 

rejection in my mouth. I did that. And now I'm out to sea, just as you are. 

We can sink or float or swim in whatever direction we choose. It's great.