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.