On November 17th 1984,
I met my first wife at a Thanksgiving food drive,
where we were both stuck in a freezing warehouse
in between cartons of donated food
and empty grocery bags
to stuff with a holiday meal.

she spoke no English,
but she was able to show me,
she was interested

that lasted 18 years
creating four beautiful children
surviving extra-marital affairs
crashing head strong into unwanted debt
before we could endure more grief or slithers of joy
we said goodbye
in words that never came out

on November 17th,2002
I left my rusty key to our ranch style home
on the kitchen table,
never to return

after sleeping on my nephew’s couch for three months
I got the nerve to ask
would she consider taking me back
her response was “go rent a one bedroom apartment”
which my children later said
was too small for them to visit

four months later,
one of my sons decided to live with me
not because I was a great father
and he choose me over his mother,
but he liked the attention of being
the only child for me to dote on.
I played the part perfectly

last summer,
my ex-wife realized that her two older sons
needed some changes…
including their father more involved in their lives
I bought a house in a bedroom community
and they moved in with me
started life in a new high school

with three men in the house,
I cook, clean and discipline,
not necessarily in that order

the freedom I was looking forward too
since my divorce
looks a lot more like responsibility
and the romance in my life
has become a reality
I have yet to get my arms around.