By Elsie McFarland
Every so often my ex-husband comes over, still boyish in his advancing years. I catch him up on our grown children, the grandkid's music lessons, soccer games, and their October trip to the Canyonlands. He recalls our long-ago August cross-country trip; the Ford Fairlane, three kids and a dog, and earlier-- just the two of us--through Europe—on five dollars a day. I open the refrigerator and pop a beer, Dividing between two glasses. He sighs, downs the beer and leaves before I remember he is dead.
Copyright 2007 Elsie McFarland