The Honeymoon

“I can’t have anything because I’m broken inside.”

A homeless woman stops me on my regular route with the dogs on a scorching Saturday afternoon.  It’s February but the sun is relentless.  I’m relatively bundled up though — the apartment I’ve been hiding in since being fired stays quite cool.

She says she prefers to be homeless because shelter makes her anxious.  She’s content sleeping next to the Dumpster in the Denny’s parking lot but wishes she could have a dog again.  That way, the dog could protect her through the night versus the streetlamp illuminating the congealing Grand Slams.   She buries her face in Chop’s fur as my dog snuggles closer– this pup has practice comforting shattered women.


I’m in my bathtub reading.  It’s the best way I know how to try and make sense of things.  I am plowing through “Eat, Pray, Love” which is terribly cliché but it’s one of those books I read once a year.

The whole story is about travel and how it can reveal, heal and transform.  I remember for the first time in months that I’m supposed to be traveling soon.  It’s my first vacation ever.  It’s my honeymoon.


I am stuck in traffic on a random day in September 2017.  Life has been good to me lately (met someone new, work was rewarding, etc.) so I decide to place an excruciating phone call to Air New Zealand to reschedule my honeymoon.  Inexplicably, my husband planned this trip only weeks before he planned to end the marriage.

“I know I have until October to re-book this flight, but I thought I would call and see what the procedure is.”

“Ma’am, you have until September 13 to change this flight.  Which, in America, is today.”

They give me a courtesy 24-hour extension after I have a colorful outburst over this news, saved forever on the Air New Zealand customer service recording I’m sure.  I pick a destination and a date: June 2018.  I figure that will be the perfect time to get away.


I’m back in the bathtub and instead of being inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert’s journey of personal exploration, the homeless woman’s comment haunts me.  This comparison is inappropriate.  The shame compounds.

The flight to my honeymoon leaves in almost 2 months and I haven’t planned anything.  Going on this trip seems so absurd.  If conditions persist, I will be boarding broke, divorced and unemployed.

I could delay the trip, again.  There is a chance the difference due for a new ticket will be more than I can afford right now.  There is a chance the new date picked won’t be any better.  There is a chance I will just cancel the trip altogether.

“I can’t have anything because I’m broken inside.”

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