The one where something tells me it is time to move on.

I am supposed to be telling you about Gencon.

I am supposed to direct you to my books at the Winter Wold Publications booth. I mean the whole con is sold out and the books are flying off the shelves, but I cannot, just cannot focus on that right now.

Instead, I stand here grieving.

I just came home and found that my new kitten had knocked the wedding photo off the table. The glass is shattered, the beautiful frame broken – three of four joints severed. It is gone.

I stared at it for a long time as my kitten mewed pitifully at my feet as if giving apology.

I… I have talked to friends about this picture before. Nobody could understand why I ever kept it. It is the wedding photo to a wedding that ended in divorce. Not one person I spoke with had any clue why I wanted it, and I could not rightly say myself. All I know is that I could not, would not give it up.

Now that it is gone, I think I have a better idea.

We bought a frame for the photo special, before the wedding. I had found markers so people could sign the glass, then it could be baked to make the ink permenant, storing the photo and the guestbook in plain sight so we would remember the wedding party, but also the people that wished us well in our future together. That future ended a long time ago now, and it is somehow fitting that all those hopes and dreams written on glass are finally gone, too.

I am despondant, for I believed in the dreams now cracked and fragmented on my floor.

There are words captured from my children before they were even teenagers, an old family friend that saw me in diapers who has passed, and family I loved that are no longer any relation and I no longer see or speak to because we have different last names.

I have that feeling again. That feeling that it is over. It is over and will never be again. I am crying on my kitchen floor because it is over and the memory is now gone. It cannot be saved. It has left me for even it has moved on.

I know my ex-wife was dissatisfied because of the rain, but I was happy the rain clouds parted in time. The heat was bothersome, but the shining sun gave a pure, honest light to the photos. She was nervous and at times frazzled at her wedding, but I was honestly happy.

And now it feels the last bit of happy I had left in my marriage is broken on my kitchen floor.

And I’m crying because it is time to move on.

 

 

 

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