When my ex was here recuperating from his heart attack, I had some kind of idea that we could be good friends. I don’t know why I thought that, because I need friends who understand me. I did miss having conversations with him. He is interesting and we have 25 plus years of memories. But you’d think the fact that he is not interested in how I feel about things would have stopped me from telling him that I have a blog.

I was all about sharing the link. Throughout our marriage, I would tell him that I wanted to write and he would tell me that I should. But I couldn’t write. What happened was that, as soon as he left, I felt that my feelings were OK and they all came pouring out in words.

I came to my senses enough to realize that giving him my blog address wouldn’t be too swift. So I let the subject drop, but printed a few posts to let him read should he bring the topic up again. He did. I explained that I thought it would be better for me to print some samples of what I’d written, and if he liked them, I would print him a few more. He isn’t computer savvy enough to google the text to find my blog.

So I gave him three samples.

After a few days, he made one comment on one of them. It was the post I had written about the afternoon we spent together on the last day of his recuperation. We both were hurting. My heart was aching when I wrote it:


His comment? You spelled “Doo-wop” wrong.

So I corrected the spelling.

Then I corrected my expectations.