Wednesday, October 18, 2017


All my life, if there's been a constant, it's been goodbyes. It was places at first. I wondered why my mom asked me, aren't you sad. I must have been six or seven. I wasn't sad but that wasn't the point, did she spot something wrong with me. Places were followed by pals. Bosom buddies I forgot overnight. Let me get this straight, I wasn't the only one doing the forgetting. Pals, loves, real close ones who were not pals or loves, I was as good as a one-night-stand. My overnight despondency turned into weeks-long depression. I wasn't just lonely, I was sucked dry.

They decided that I should talk to someone. He seemed like a good guy. He seemed to understand. Seemed, I hate that word with disappointment its shadow. He listened to me though. That must have been tough. But it was tougher when I had to listen. He told me that not all of the goodbyes were goodbyes. Just an interval, he said. That was the good news. The bad news was that not all of them were ever there. Yeah, right, I cooked up goodbyes. Can you believe that?

Somewhere along the way I got married. I thought it would be loving to confide my worst fears. I told her about the goodbyes. How she laughs. Did you marry because of that, she pokes. She can rub it in. Man, you are needy for company, she taunts. That's a goodbye not going to be a goodbye. I never forgot what the guy said. What if my wife is imaginary, I grinned. It's not bad, not at all bad, this word so real so imaginary.

She came along then. She's there, really there, I can feel it, a dream more real than real. No more goodbyes, she says, we'll be together forever. She has her moods, don't they all. Why do you treat me as if I am not here, she asks. Hey, what can I say to that.

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