Notes from my Black
A few years ago
I don’t know if I was more vulnerable or more wistful or what, but a few years ago I watched a movie call the best of me. I cried a cry that didn’t purge me at all. I’m fact it took me down a path of wishing and glorifying history.
The movie is like my life, except male/ female roles are reversed and the reunion and the death.
She picked that movie to watch last night. She has a 100% acid reaction to any cheater… and this movie has one so as you can imagine her disdain for me grew- even though I didn’t actually cheat and she routinely talks about that time period as when we weren’t married… she’s hard to figure out.
I don’t know the point in me writing this… it was on my mind.