On July 30, 2016, I reached a writing milestone.
I finished writing my first manuscript, my memoir titled “Heart in a Drawer: My Story as a Child of Divorce.”
Our whole class stood in the hallway to view a critique
the first day of our final semester
and when you took your normal place beside me
I cut away to the far corner.
Confusion crossed your face
but you didn’t follow me.
Your conversation that spring semester
warmed me like the bright sun
on winter afternoons.
Marriage blindsided me
with its onion peels
petty arguments
and unpaid bills.
When you saw my sparkly diamond ring
your congratulations sounded hollow
as you clenched your jaw.
Yet you sat across from me
every day, sharing bits and pieces
of your life in conversation.
We illustrated autumn produce:
yours striped squash, mine pomegranate.
The first time we spoke
you approached me after our class critique
of illuminated letters.
Wowed you were by my velvety black lettering
by my gilded William Morris grapevines
by my lush Gustav Klimt flowers.