On nights like tonight I get out the wedding album and slip on my ring
and wonder how it all got away from me, even though I know the answer
to that question perfectly well. It=92s written right there in the
photos if you just know what to look for. Maybe I should burn damned
thing. The ring feels like dead weight and makes my hand looks like a
stranger=92s. Maybe I should drop it off the end of the pier into the
oblivion of the sea. Would either fire or saltwater cleanse me of the
sense of failure and loss? I suspect not and that some cliche about
time is appropriate here.
You know, I used to think I never wanted to get married, but now I
realize I just never wanted to get divorced. And some part of me
always assumed that one followed the other. A self fulfilling
prophecy perhaps. But I have to admit I miss it. Not him, but =85 the
idea of it, of us. Being part of even a losing team has its virtues.
The notion that someone=92s always got your back can be comforting even
when reality differs.
Most days I=92m happy for the change, for the clean slate and the chance
to maybe someday start something that isn=92t doomed from day one. Even
in the midst of these ridiculous tears I can=92t say I=92m sorry. But I
cry them anyway and miss what I had and wait for the spasm to pass.
M
