my mother asked me how in the hell was he able to land such a seemingly successful woman?

All I could tell her was that the dude was charismatic.

I leafed through the photos... struck by just how rough he looked.

yellow teeth. thinning hair. dirty suit.

The kind of dirty that looked like he had fallen down here and there.

On her wedding day... she looked into her disheveled grooms face and

her smile was ecstatic... but her eyes reminded me of familiar places I had been with him.

As usual... His lips were stained blue from the wine and were laughing.

I knew from the pics that on this day... he had cried about God, Jesus and his hard life up till then...

And she, like me, would beat back the horror of what she had just gone and done

and tell herself that he loved her and was a good person.

And maybe for her... he will be... a good person.

Together they made me think of old diamond rings... the kind that are made smoky over time...

when one forgets to remove the ring, remember everything and shine it up again.



I thought I would feel pain seeing him again but I only felt relief...

Someone else would shoulder him and his hard and worrisome kind of love...

And what ever loved me more here saw fit to grant me freedom.