correo del fin del mundo | kübler-ross
musings on circularity
It was a Friday morning and my birthday. I was on my way to a wedding in Scottsdale. The very same wedding you said you’d locate and infiltrate to whisk me away. I knew it was unlikely you’d actually do that. But I still experienced a sense of joy knowing that the distance between us was growing smaller the farther we drove.
I even considered stopping by your apartment while we were in town. You did give me your address, after all. And I was really worried about how you were doing after Sarah kicked you out of your home. I knew you were spending a lot of time self-soothing. Habits are the foundation of any person’s well-being, and she’d stripped you of your known routine and comforts.
Still optimistic, I hadn’t yet discovered the backdoor email you sent earlier that month with the terse explanation of your current disposition. Even now, I wish you’d had the courage to reach out and tell me directly.
That morning, heading east on the I-8, there was a beautiful halo rainbow around the sun. It was the first time I’d ever seen one. The photo I took through the rental car window didn’t do it justice. Erik said he’d seen them before, but this was the most vibrant one he’d seen.
I’d been noticing many universal signs of hope along with other “messages.” In fact, Erik and I both saw rainbows immediately after each of our individual sessions with the couples counselor.
I interpreted it as a sign that the Universe smiles upon us, that everything would be okay.
Many weeks later, a postcard arrived in the mail from Correo del Fin del Mundo. It wasn’t intended for us. The sender misaddressed it. Still, it fascinated me. I’d been listening to Jason’s stories about his time in Argentina, about his own experiences following an unknown path and how it led him from one amazement to another.
It sounded like a place I’d want to visit. I wanted my own adventures. And the postcard felt like a reminder, not only of that impulse, but the types of occurrences that lead one to fortune and misfortune. Even the small ones that lead to unexpectedly getting a postcard in the mail from: the end of the world.
Then, I saw it. The card was postmarked on my birthday.
I knew it wasn’t for me. But it was.
Perhaps another person wouldn’t have read so much into it. But I was already starting to see how there are no accidents. My life has always been a strange series of events unfolding unto a story too strange to not tell.
That summer, even after you dumped me for the second time, I still wished I could share that moment and feeling with you. That strange sensation of awe, hope and fascination in watching a path revealed. One day, I updated the Kübler-Ross playlist (the one I created the first time you dumped me) with the picture I took of the sun halo, thinking that maybe you still had the playlist and would see it.
But just a few days later, I started processing yet another heavy round of anger, doubt and confusion. One afternoon after my daily walk in the park, in a moment of extreme anger and frustration, I asked myself why I was even stupid enough to hope that you’d be listening. I hastily deleted the playlist with mixed feelings of relief and regret.
Did you know that Elisabeth Kübler-Ross died in Scottsdale? I didn’t. It spooked me a bit when I later found out.
This year, on my birthday, due to a series of occurrences, I’ll be traveling from Osaka to Kyoto. It’s not that I intentionally planned the date. It’s not El Fin del Mundo. But it is the other end of the world.