I remember when we got that fan—your father and I.  We got it at a Woolworth’s in 1960.  The year we were married… They don’t make them to last anymore.  I’m getting old, Carter.  You know you’re getting old when you start with the ending and tell your story that way.  Every morning I start with where I am now and then I go back and sometimes the most recent memories come first but other times I remember something for no reason something from years and years ago maybe it’s a smell or I hear a song but sometimes it’s nothing it’s just stillness and I remember something about your father.


When you’re in love you just know it.  Balls to bones.  And it’s good at first it’s always good because it brings out the best in you.  You can relax.  You don’t have to be perfect in fact the most gratifying part is revealing your weakness your vulnerability and the other person still thinks you’re perfect and you’re not afraid to look into their eyes and you want to touch them and like any drug you’re hooked it’s so pleasurable like a finger tracing lines in your palm just that simple caress can send you in withdrawals when your lover is away…  I want that again.  I think we want that forever but something about us can’t handle it.  Fears.  Hang-ups. Baggage from past hurts.  Insecurities.  The simple fact we’re human and we fail each other and pretty soon we figure out we’re really just alone and all we have is each other to some extent and after a person hurts you shows you their worst side and you show them yours there’s a deepening of the relationship and if the closure’s never coming there can be meaning in that something of value hard to find in this world… or it could be like a shit.  Once it’s out you don’t really shove it back in there.


It is good for the kids.  If you can stay together for the children. But do you really want to grow old with her?  She’s just gonna hurt you again.