D-I-V-O-R-C-E

It pains me to admit it, but Saturday night came and went without the imbibing of wine. It just didn't seem the thing, after Lemony Snicket, popcorn, Junior Mints and Schlotsky's.

Or maybe it's that the only open bottle at home was the 2002 Seigneurs de Bergerac, a blend of Merlot, Cab and Cab Franc that sounded promising. It was inexpensive (Lucas Liquors), and since it was a baby meritage, I had hopes for it. They were dashed. Had I considered it beforehand, I might have tried smuggling in a smidge of wine to accompany my Schlotzky's veggie sandwich. What goes with salt and vinegar potato chips? I'll have to ponder that.

Eh, as I've said many times before, and as the Stones said before me, you can't always get what you want.

In less than a week, I'm going to say goodbye to my two children, Ellie and Max. I've housed them and fed them and loved them for half their lives, but the time is upon me to let them go. Their Mom needs them, and I must learn to live without them. I have other children to tend, and Ellie and Max are returning to the home in which they were raised. They're actually my stepchildren, you see, and I have no wish to engage in a battle for custody. No, they rightfully belong to Kathy, and to Waldo they must return.

Not that Ellie is going to understand that. She's a sensitive, moody, needy girl, and I've spent more time with her these past years than her Mommy has. In fact, I've slept with her in my bed more than I have with Kathy, strange though that is to consider. I expect the adjustment will be most difficult for Ellie. Max is okay as long as his sister is with him -- she always has been -- and I will be okay. In time. Eventually. With some months under my belt. And the other babies to distract me.

And really, life will be easier. Physically, anyway. Tons less poop to pick up, Tons less chow to feed, Tons less mobile veterinarian visits, But still it makes me weep. . . (with apologies to Marilyn McCue and the Fifth Dimension)

This is the bitter taste of divorce. It sucks. It blows. It hurts. Despite the lack of a marriage contract. Despite the fact that Ellie and Max are frisky dogs, not little people. It's a sad truth that sometimes love just ain't enough. Not even when it's returned.

For Kathy, with whom I shared a home, a family, a life:

Interlude

On a suspension bridge
we are suspended
clear bracing air filtering the brown breezes
filling the space that surrounds us.

Rocking in a simulacrum of safety
familiar as salt
familiar as the cradle of your arms
I cannot believe we are at an end.
The bridge is so long
so seemingly strong/though
I cut the trusses myself
though I had help
though I know
outside the rocking I know
I had help.

In the dear known planes of your face
I touch my home
in the wrench of your mouth
I know my pain
and yours
and the pain to come.

Below us the tidal basin.

When the sun breaks
we will fall
Remember my heart
the art of floating.

The bridge tips toward the water
Iron. Inexorable.

Thrumming with terror
out beyond the collapsing span
I set my eyes on a splash of light
in the west.

I will miss Ellie and Max. I miss their mother. I love her, of course, and when she stops hating me so much she will remember that she loves me as well. We're family. We became a family because of love, and we'll remain family even as we step into separate lives, in separate houses.

The thought of this loss makes me want to howl at the moon. That's what wolves do. Dogs do. Humans -- well, we've been known to wail, and to gnash our teeth. We're animals, after all. When we're wounded, we howl with misery. And sometimes we drown our sorrows. What's the proper wine for the deep sting of divorce?