Easy Lovers, Shared Custody.
A beautiful day.
White sashes and ivory candles.
Dresses and suits.
Groomsmen.
Till Death do us part.
In sickness and in health.
The party raged.
Food passed by in trays.
Champagne by the cases.
A night to remember.
Phase II.
New house.
New mortgage.
New cats.
Piss everywhere but the litter box.
Babies arrive.
They cry.
Shit.
Grow.
Eat.
Repeat.
Grow again.
Sleep through the night.
Are they dead?
Hardly.
Sleepwalking.
Red dress.
Phase III.
A life of crime and sitcoms.
Elementary school.
Field day.
Cheater cheater, pumpkin cheater.
Gym class.
Book fair.
Sickness.
Health.
Fallout.
Divorce.
Kids don’t understand.
A distraction, maybe?
New house.
New city.
New school.
“Stuff.”
Building the bookcase.
Emotional wreck.
Two stories in a split house.
Sixth grade.
Writing.
New friends.
They left.
New ones?
Not yet.
More writing.
Halloween.
School dances.
Girls are weird, but cool.
Christmas.
Girls aren’t weird anymore.
Summer.
Overweight.
Yearbook pictures.
Halloween again.
Winter formal.
Phase IV.
High school.
JROTC.
Writing.
More friends?
Nope, they’re the same.
Beach trip.
Christmas.
Covid.
Covid.
Covid.
Easy lovers, right?
No.
You moved too quickly.
Or didn’t move at all.
No shared custody.
Times change.
People change.
Still overweight.
New stories.
An idea.
I’m breathless.
Finite.
30 pages done.
To the desk drawer it goes.
Easy lovers.
Barely see each other.
A decade and a half.
Almost.
A new beginning.
New year.
High hopes.
Low expectations.
Start the journey.
Broken house.
Cracked system.
Four years.
Snow storms.
Autumn leaves.
Finished writing.
Overjoyed.
To be continued.
My journey is new.