Sunday

Who we are now (ii)

Emery,

Great idea. I'll tell you what I do know.

I know some of the major events in your earlier life, the heartbreak of cheating boyfriends (was it Cliff with the raging case of...what STD was it? Chlamydia?

I know about your latest success with your small business, and of those earlier days of sales and travel and the consistent embarrassment of sexual secrets shared with strangers.

I know about still births and children, both borne from love and those who came into your life because of their divorced father.

I know that you worry about the effects on your children.

I know that you worry about how they handled the break-up, the testicular cancer, the distance their father lives from them--geographically, emotionally--the wear and tear of your depression on them.

I know that you have always disliked your thighs and take issue with those pesky love handles on your hips. I know that you are thoughtful, kind-hearted, and sweet.

Things that I don't know about you are extensive:

I don't know the name of your favourite movie,

I don't know if you still like to read those trashy romance novels, or if your crush on Ron McLean.

I don't know the birth dates of your kids, or if you named them after favourite relatives.

I don't know when your last date was, or if you are having a hot, steamy love affair.

I don't know your pet peeves.

I don't know what is in your heart, but please know that you are always in mine.