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" I took a deep breath, clutching the divorce papers in my hands. &amp;quot;It doesn&amp;#039;t matter,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;But can you get me a pen? I need to take care of something.&amp;quot;  He nodded.  &amp;quot;And then I have to go out,&amp;quot; I said to myself, once Jackson was out of earshot. &amp;quot;And take care of the rest of it. Tie of the rest of these loose ends. So I can get us to a better place, Jackson. So we can start again.&amp;quot;  It is a difficult thing when you are leaving somewhere \u2014 leaving the home you&amp;#039;ve made over the course of a decade \u2014 to figure out how to tie up all the loose ends, how to close each chapter so you feel like you can begin again somewhere new. Really begin again, with everything that entails. In some ways, it can make you feel seventeen years old again: that sense of adventure when you leave home for the first time, the world your oyster.  But, of course, I wasn&amp;#039;t seventeen.  And I didn&amp;#039;t want to close everything down too tightly in case it turned out that New York wasn&amp;#039;t the best place for Jackson or me or both of us. Believe me: I was thrilled that he was so excited about the possibility of New York, but being excited about the possibility and the actuality of being in a new place were two different things. I knew that. I knew that he could have any reaction once we were actually there and he was in the position of making new friends.  I tried to broach this with him when he came back into the room with the pen, but Jackson interrupted me.  &amp;quot;I know all of this, I do. But I still want to go,&amp;quot; he said.  &amp;quot;But you have so many friends here, and Sara now\u2026&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Things have been more complicated with Sara than I&amp;#039;ve let on.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Meaning?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Meaning she hasn&amp;#039;t been as clear with her old boyfriend as I&amp;#039;ve been with Abby. Meaning, I&amp;#039;m not sure what is going to happen with her.&amp;quot;  I felt my heart drop. &amp;quot;Jackson, I&amp;#039;m sorry.&amp;quot;  He nodded, and then beat me to my next question. &amp;quot;But that&amp;#039;s not the reason, Liz. Sara&amp;#039;s not the reason.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;You sure?&amp;quot;  He nodded, again. &amp;quot;Believe me. I&amp;#039;ve always wanted two things: to be a journalist and to live in New York City. And to get to have that experience while I&amp;#039;m in high school would be amazing! I could intern at The Village Voice or Newsweek, maybe. I could get a great leg up on all of it. And with your cool job, I bet we are going to get a sick apartment.&amp;quot;  I laughed.  &amp;quot;Seriously, don&amp;#039;t worry about me.&amp;quot;  I smiled. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s my job.&amp;quot;  He smiled back, and I realized that whatever Michelle didn&amp;#039;t do well, she must have done something incredibly right. He was truly the greatest kid around.  Which was when I told Jackson that our conversation was to be continued \u2014 he could talk to me at any time \u2014 and headed to the post office, pen in hand.  I parked the car and read over the settlement again in the peace and quiet. It looked fair. It really did. And I didn&amp;#039;t want anything from Jason anyway. Except to be able to see Abby \u2014 if and when she was willing again. And Jason had already given me the visitation agreement with Abby.  The rest\u2026 Well, before I could do my &amp;quot;Liz-back-and-forth&amp;quot; about it, I signed. I wasn&amp;#039;t taking a divorce lightly.  But I did realize without a doubt that I needed to not be legally bound to Jason anymore. This man was not to be trusted. It was that simple. Despite everything that had happened medically that could explain it, I still couldn&amp;#039;t get past it. It was too much. Leslie, the pregnancy. Too much to let go of. Which led me to a conclusion: Sometimes why someone hurts you doesn&amp;#039;t matter. It just matters that they do. And if you can&amp;#039;t get over it, if the hurt is just too bad, you have to let them go.  So I did the thing I needed to do months before. I put the papers in the blue mailbox and said good-bye.  Then I drove to my office to start on the rest of it: closing up the office (for now), letting clients know that I was going in-house at least for the foreseeable future, dealing with the rest of the loose ends.  Jackson called and said he was having dinner with Sara&amp;#039;s family, so I worked very late that first night \u2014 and then I spent almost all weekend working, working to get everything done that needed doing.  By yesterday morning, I was a little disoriented, but also amazed at how much I had gotten done. Work-wise, I could be ready to move to New York in a week or so. But that felt major. That felt like a major first step.  Which was when I did it. I picked up the phone and called Beth.  &amp;quot;What if I said I could start right around Christmas?&amp;quot; I asked.   &amp;quot;I would say Merry Christmas to me,&amp;quot; Beth laughed.  I smiled. That would mean Jackson could finish the last couple of weeks of this semester here without being disrupted, and we would still have loads of time to go to New York and get a great place to live and get settled.  &amp;quot;Then you&amp;#039;ve got yourself a photo editor,&amp;quot; I said.  &amp;quot;That,&amp;quot; Beth said, &amp;quot;I do.&amp;quot;  We chatted for another couple of minutes about logistics \u2014 Beth said she would send me an e-mail with great real estate agents and NYC-based moving companies, etc. \u2014 and then I hung up the phone.  Then I picked it up again, and made the phone call I was dreading making. The one that was going to make this all too real.  &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s me,&amp;quot; I said, when Doug&amp;#039;s voice mail picked up. &amp;quot;Please call me back when you get this, as soon as you get this, Doug. We need to talk in person.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/a2364/diary-e-111307/>