There Once Was a Divorce...
It was strange seeing my mom and dad
talking in the living room this evening.
My dad moved out nine years ago
and they have been divorced for six.
I grew up in this house with them both.
So much has changed here in the years since he left,
not for the better or worse, really;
they’ve just changed.
I remember sitting in that same living room
over a decade ago, watching wrestling with my dad,
me laughing at him as he dozed off in his recliner.
I remember Christmas after Christmas in that room,
a little me tearing into presents like a mole clawing at the earth
while they drank their coffee and watched.
As I sat there today, I wondered how my dad must have felt.
He has a new life now, but surely the memories of the old life
came to him as he sat there in that same recliner he always sat in before.
I know how my mother feels;
she wishes he were still here, living and married to her.
He’s remarried now, though, and life has moved along in the steady stream
of time like it always does,
carrying with it nothing but change
and moments that, year by year, become obscured
like vision through a fogged up window.