"Our life was good in the beginning"

                             A few years back: within decadent residential enclosures, approaching late November sullenly. Unwinding red and green light bulbs flickered in steady intervals; from household windows out on to our city street. A painted snow-scene aura radiated from her feline sweater. Auburn-like; a thick bushy brow captivated her dark brown eyes solemnly: a wooden Jesus ornament towered high above the decorated boughs. Hallmark cards we opened on special mornings amongst our few unique children, how irreplaceable: a child's blood. This was our life; and it was good in the beginning. I remind you a few years back now: I'd have our South Philly row house prepared for your return home from work. Children would be reading at the living-room table, below ceiling-light candelabra, nose-deep into their homework studies.
                           Evening would delicately ascend from the translucent artificial fireplace, up through the screen-entranced chimney. Santa Clause would bump his fat ass upon getting caught in the cumbersome woodwork. There were many things beside the fireplace that were artificial during this time. Our marriage whether we'd like to admit it or not was a sham: a delusional fantasy, a desirable pipe-dream lacking a sturdy foundation. As much that I told you I loved you: I lied to myself. Our kids bought our marriage some time; all three of them: two boys (twins), and one girl. I cared for you dearly in the wild beginning. Life introduced certain undetectable romanticized trouble for us both on the same timeline: without parallel. We struggled together before our struggles became one; then we both were screwed.
                          I recall how you worked part-time at the same downtown department store I frequented. I'd see you in brief passing: coming and going. I'd dream of you as a sly adolescent girl on the run from her problems. Maybe as a child scribbling nightly fantasies into a self-proclaimed diary. Our honeymoon was bittersweet: tragic and comical. Quickly we found out there was no smooth sailing for us. You're deceased belligerent mother the alcoholic: verbally abusive and belittling. Your father, still alive and pleasantly clueless. Still playing a major role in our dysfunctional livelihood. I'd be downstairs in the kitchen washing dishes; gently placing them onto the sink-rack. You'd make your way downstairs from putting the kids to bed; glass of red wine in hand. We were both passionate about our drinking and monthly finances. Many forlorn nights ending tragically due to false expectations and intoxicating black-out periods.
                           Those days in the beginning era of our marriage: I treasure beyond anything else in my life. It seemed that everything was right for us: the kids, our careers, our youth; how time caught up with us immeasurably. It was not soon after that I fell into a deep heaving black-pit of depression. You were able to take care of the kids while I sat home and drank; looking for work in all the wrong places. Divorce papers and the trailer were next for me. At least I can say that I'm a man who once had it all. My family was my responsibility; and I threw it to the waste-side. You are a very strong woman who could control your drinking much more than I could. Sure if I could go back perhaps I'd change some of the things I did and said; maybe make a few different decisions. Destiny has a way of smiling into your frail tartar eyes, then fucking you from behind. If I do recall correctly; you never like it from behind.

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