“I’m back,” I said to my condo. as I surveyed each room, assessing damage and loss. I knew my wife would take everything of value, I just didn’t know whether she would destroy what she left behind, like a tornado leveling this home, but leaving the one next to it unscathed. So as I walked around my nearly empty apartment, there was a sense of relief that she did not damage the few items of mine that remained. She left the pre-marriage odds and ends alone; apparently in her twisted sense of fairness these belonged to me, while everything else that we shared belonged to her.

The first day, after the locksmith got me in and re-keyed the locks, I just made a list of what I needed immediately, like toilet paper, shower rod, Pine Sol, sponges, mop, Ajax, and stuff like that. I needed a vacuum cleaner post haste. She even took both corkscrews we owned, as well as the can opener and heavy duty kitchen scissors. She left very little. I walked around the apartment, room by room, looking into cabinets and closets, sidestepping empty shoe boxes and hangers, dirt balls and crumpled newspapers. I had other errands to run, and besides, I needed to buy supplies, so I could roll my sleeves up and begin cleaning up. I left and came back with the soaps and sponges, mop and dust pan, and vacuum cleaner and just left it all in the living room.

The second day, I returned at mid-day wearing sweat shirt and jeans, ready to begin. I am not sure why but I started cleaning the kitchen first. I scrubbed down walls and counter tops, got into drawers and under the sink, and sponged down the floor, and then again scrubbed it on my hands and knees. It is as if with elbow grease, Pine Sol and bleach, I could exorcise the demons from my home, room by room.

Today I scrubbed out the refrigerator and freezer, and the pan that collects water and dirt underneath the refrigerator. It is amazing the amount of dirt that can accumulate if left to its own devices for 5 years. Neither of us, as I have mentioned, were big on cleaning; besides she divorced me and any upkeep of our home long before any lawyer was thought of, let alone retained.

Here is a sidebar: my estranged wife would begin each day with a bowl of rice. This became like a ceremony, so she would frequently make large quantities of rice in the evening to last for several day. While cleaning the kitchen I kept finding kernels of rice in this corner and that corner of the kitchen, on the oven, under the sink, little reminders of her that I had to pick piece by piece and throw away. And that will be how I shall rebuild my life, piece by piece, tossing away the memories of her.