Three Times

Three times. I have been mar­ried three times. Third time is charm­ing. Prob­lems in surgery seem to come in threes, at least that is what we always say: two bowel obstruc­tions and it is mid­night. I have one more to go before I am off at 7. etc.
Mar­riage. It is not them. It is me. Yawn. The uni­verse has been wait­ing for me for this time, and even this time I have not han­dled it at all per­fectly. I am mar­ried but I am still walk­ing and stum­bling up the steps. What does this mean? Mrried, yo. We are together and mak­ing this life together and I am here and in it and the time I spend with you is valu­able like (way more than) money or more (but what is the vocab­u­lary for what I value that is not not related to $, but seri­ously?) , but still, in that, is me. I am still here. Does any­one relate to this, that what is here for work is the reality/fact/idea/ that I am part of this equa­tion. She is gen­er­ous and lov­ing and con­tent and then there is me who is also truly lov­ing and con­tent and also rest­less and won­der­ing and and I think we all have these thoughts like what am I to this and what am I to the world and why do I have dreams about Morocco and why do I have thoughts of Miami and thoughts of Brus­sels and places I have not been and you know, I may not now go you, my love, my love may not either and this is your one life and I know you won­der – I know because we all do and I do, and I admit it, I do, I won­der about the night in Tunisia you did not have and that i did not have and that we did not have, we didn’t. Think of this equals that and I am this or that and the strug­gle with unde­fined num­bers (we are at three now) and poly­no­mi­als are mak­ing their way in to this sys­tem, by default and I am the denom­i­na­tor that is com­mon and yet math seem to have grace, unex­pect­edly, which is dif­fer­ent than finance (which is num­bers) but which has no grace and noth­ing really interesting:the math of three in my life is where I find grace in the storm of always think­ing mind so I can mean it when I say… This is my life and I am in love with my wife and my child and this time in my life. I am where I am meant to be.

Step up. There is this woman in the life of a wan­der­ing man who is like a weather vane in the wind – the wind moves and the vane turns noth­ing changes with respect to the place of the vane or the wind: she is solid while the life of the man is like Laugh­ing Gulls dip­ping and curl­ing around the lazy bread crumbs fly­ing up from the 83 Ford Thun­der­bird on the beach, my dads that i am dri­ving and I don’t have to explain this to you, it is just this moment I remem­ber that I ren­der, like the chef ren­ders the fat off the meat, like the mem­ory is ren­dered off of time, like tragic, deli­cious all at once, like a Sun­day night and you are twenty-five and a bot­tle of wine and in love and watch­ing a film, a movie, and the pasta is warm and you are in love and awe of love and it is the first time you feel adult and it is a lit­tle sad and a lit­tle beau­ti­ful all at once, like that, all the memories…

Like that and like my shifty crazy rest­less soul look­ing for cool and relief and won­der here on this Sun­day night, the best night for lovers, right? Right. Here. Now. I am here now and that is good.