Autograph

This afternoon I affixed my signature to a legal document called a quit claim. Which means, in essence, that I'm not going to give my ex a hard time about selling his house. A house he owned for four and a half years. A house that I barely set foot in during that time. A house I assisted him in buying furniture and household gadgets for. A house I had to be present at closing when he purchased it. Because we were still legally married when he bought the house, I had to show up and sign my name a few times. And today, although our divorce has been final for over four years, I signed off any claim on the house so he could be free and clear to sell it. Which brings a couple of thoughts to mind. Firstly, that this is one of those odd loopholes through which a disgruntled ex would be in a position to exact some revenge. Having no revenge to exact, the idea that I could have used this as an opportunity to cement my reputation in the Annals of Supreme Bitchiness gave me a little chuckle...momentary pause while I polish my halo...My second thought is a tiny twinge of sadness. Because time marches on just as people move on. To new relationships and new residences. It seems incongruous that I am happy and content to no longer be married to my former husband at the same time that I regret the failure of the marriage. Two disparate enities within the same space. Much like we were.