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  • July 26 2012, at about noon, on my road trip to Republic-

    I drove by that house that we stayed in on the river in Leavenworth today. I wanted to stop and ask if the place was still for rent or what the deal was, I can no longer find it on the internet. I liked the place, so close to town we could ride our bikes. We went there I think twice, once with your kids and once without. It was hard to find because you wanted to take your dogs and not many places will accommodate them. We picked our way down that steep goat trail, switching back and forth to the river and I picked up those furfaces and threw them in the river. If they could giggle and laugh they would have, they were so happy, just swimming and swimming and swimming, we laid on the rocks in the sun.

    We went for dinner in town; the place was on the second floor with the windows open on the street. There was a woman playing a harp. A six foot tall, golden fucking harp! It seemed she had been beamed down from the right hand of the throne of baby Jesus, it was quite odd.

    Later we went back and were on one of the decks toward the river, the sound of the roaring Wenatchee River enveloping us. I was kissing you and we were making out a bit. I put my hand up under your dress and you were not wearing panties. You laughed and said “somehow I KNEW you would figure out I wasn’t wearing any panties”. I turned you around and had you lean on the railing, I lifted up your dress a bit and had my way with you. You turned a little and over your left shoulder said “see I can give you what you want”.

    I wish I could replay some of these moments of my life. Not like a VCR where I would just watch what I had participated in, but a button where I could actually re-live these vignettes in every nuance of detail. Of course if I had to re-live the entire larger segment with all the bad parts, the pain, the tedium, the mowing of lawns, the commuting to work it would not be so attractive. I would just like some of my highlights, the nice heavy, clear, sparkly ones.

    On Sunday, when we were having breakfast, and you were carrying on about your big decision to move to San Francisco, with the jobs, and money, and kids, all the insurance and where to live details, I almost asked you a question.

    The question was in my mouth and I was formulating the words, it was stewing in there, fermenting and it damn near bubbled out, but at the last possible second I hesitated. I do this more and more lately, I wonder if it is a glimmering of wisdom or something else?

    The question was; if way back when, all those years ago, when I was drinking and drugging, runin’ and gunin’ and using to excess, if I would have quit that, if I had gone to re-hab, do you think we could have made it? I mean by making it, sticking together and living happily, more or less, ever after.

    When I was getting ready to ask that I realized that if you had said yes, it would have made me feel bad and hurt my feelings. I would have had a new resentment against myself for those “lost years”, those years that by any measure I had overmedicated myself. I had twisted and tweaked relationships, certainly wasted money and many business and work opportunities; it was just a bad time. I also realized that if you had said no, that even then, in a new and scrubbed shiny, clean and sober state it most likely still wouldn’t have worked, well that would have been even worser.

    Yes I love that word worser.

    After a moment’s pause it became clear whatever your response would be it would hurt me. I thought well….why is it necessary to know this now, years later? Is it valuable to dwell on the past like that? No, of course not.

    So I dwelt in the moment instead. To really enjoy the fact we were together, talking and enjoying talking to each other, like we always did so well, almost like two birds. I picked at my Joe’s Special and we finished up and walked out. I took your hand as we languidly strolled down toward the Snoqualmie River. We consulted the sky and we discussed the possibility of rain.
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