What I don’t think happened:

The orthodontist, in a weak moment, was hypnotized into scheduling November 30 as the Big Day—the day my daughter finally gets her braces off after two rounds, with a total of five years, of treatment. That was the exact day that my ex’s attorney wanted for the orthodontal appointment , because it was also the day of the rescheduled mediation, and that would really throw me, making me more conciliatory to the Plaintiff. The attorney remembered the structure of my daughter’s teeth during the other litigation, timed how long it would take for that one molar to erupt and the tooth to its left to, with the use of rubber bands in triangular configuration, meet it.  And he knew the week having November 30 in it would be the time. So he agreed to that mediation date from the judge’s choices, and sent vibes to the orthodontist for the November 30 appointment.

What I think happened:

My English teacher (any of them from 6th grade through college) rammed symbolism down my throat to such a degree that I inject it into real life events and react. For example:

So it’s come to this. My ex will use the day to work toward kicking his daughter out of this house, when it was supposed to be a day for this family to celebrate her getting her braces off.

But, you know, sometimes it’s what doesn’t get the attention that gives the situation its real meaning. Imagine all the unnoticed, fragile wildflowers that succumb to the bulldozer. Maybe fathers with their own agendas miss the preciousness of family life. And maybe the juxtaposition of these two conflicting appointments, though certainly not deliberately planned, is heartbreakingly symbolic because of my ex’s not even knowing when the Big Day was to be.

Once November 30 gets closer and I’m sure the mediation date won’t be postponed again, I’ll reschedule the Big Day. And I’ll give it enough symbolism to make all my English teachers proud.

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