It's a Wonder

You know how you get to pretend like you have no connections to anyone or anything from the first 50 years of your life? You wake up every day and go about your business as if none of us exist.  You don't have to look at us. Or talk to us. Or be reminded of us in any way.  You have new friends, new love, new priorities ... new everything.  It must be sort of exciting. You can build your life how you want it to be. Tell people only what you want them to know. It's a grand adventure for you.  But here's the truth.  You are still here.  Your life still exists here.  We remember all of it. We are reminded of you every day, in so many ways.  Every time I see Kati, the first words out of her mouth after, "Hi, how are you?" are, "Have you head from my dad?" You can see the hope behind her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. And when I sign no, the dark that flashes over her face is impossible to hide.  She tries to blow it off, be tough a...

Remember a million years ago when I said I wanted to get to know your mom? We talked about having her friends come over and spin a few yarns about the good old days.  I proposed the idea because I wanted to get a glimpse of the woman who made you you. Because I had the good fortune of knowing and loving your dad, I could see the ways he showed up in your being. But I also wanted to know those things about her that I could identify as part of you. And I really thought you might like to hear the stories, too. After your dad died, I thought you might actually need them.  Fast forward to last spring. Charlene was gone. Along with Fran and Wally. And one Sunday afternoon, Judy showed up at our front door.  I barely had the door open and she blurted out as only Judy can do, "I don't know what's happening, but I know something isn't right. Where is he? Is he dead or alive? What the hell is going on?"  I invited her in, hugged her hard and sat her down. My intent was to t...

After three weeks of promising me that we'd talk about our divorce, I still have not heard from you.  And I have no idea what that means.  There are lots of options for why.  Maybe you don't want to talk about Block Diesel and the money you still owe there, because you know they haven't sent me the verification you promised so long ago.  Maybe you don't have a solution for the Illinois DOT situation.  Maybe you don't want to tell me that you haven't taken your name off of the ranch LLC as you said you would, because she "put you on there without your knowledge."   Maybe you don't give a fuck about how much this whole siutation hurts me and continues to expose me to risk and liability.  Maybe you prolong it to purposefully hurt me, torture me because in some newly created narrative, I'm the bad guy.   Maybe you don't want an update about Kati because it hurts you too much to hear it.  Maybe talking to me hurts you because it reminds ...

  I'm getting ready for the big birthday party. I offered to have it here out of reflex. And then I spent a few days agonizing over it. How could I have Jodi here? They're just going to want to talk about you. Slam you, probably. Notice all of the things in/about the house that are in disrepair and snicker under their breath about them. Cassie's family, if any come, will just talk about how unfair it is that they can't live here instead of crowding in with Lori.  It's a no-win situation for me. And there's no one on "my team" except for my mom and Karla, neither of whom will be much help.  So I have cleaned. Washed floors, washed windows, dusted and de-cobwebbed. I've shut the door to your office ... still in a bit of a shambles from the big pipe burst. No one is allowed in there to see the single box I have packed up. (I couldn't finish the job. It hurt too much.)  Today I hit the backyard. I weeded. I cut a ton of low-hanging branches off the...