April 14, 2015

Getting Your Creative Self Back

gysbDriving down Route, 89 south from Montpelier toward White River Junction, I tried to remember exactly how long it had been since I’d had sex. Although we didn’t actually separate and agree to divorce until February of 1993, the last time my husband and I had made love–and the last time I’d had sex–was in late May of 1992, and here it was, the Fourth of July, 1994. Two years and one month later, One hundred and nine weeks. Seven hundred and sixty five, days.

The numbers mattered. They were real when little else seemed to be. But each day arrived like a new witness for the prosecution, reiterating the case against me and leading me further from the truth.

I had just 24 hours off

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