B

 I mentioned that I was going through three big bins of old pictures, initially inspired by a mad quest to find my missing passport (which, thankfully, the djinn finally returned). I mean, I had to look through them because the need to find my passport was real, but I also didn't really want to go through them because was a lot of pain hiding in the bins. At the same time, there was also a lot of joy, I just had to have the courage to face it (there's a thinly-veiled metaphor in there somewhere). While I never found my passport in the bin (the djinn had hidden it elsewhere) I did find a ton of personal history, and maybe the ability to process it. I ended up pulling out many of the pictures and framing them, and now my small apartment is even more overstuffed with pictures (with more on the way). I found this picture of my ex-wife B, which I think was snapped in our first apartment in Cincinnati. Mainly I framed it for my son, but, truthfully, it's also been nice to have around the apartment. It's a painful memory in many ways, but I also don't think that simply because we didn't make it to death that somehow it was a great lie. There were some bad years, but also some great ones. In the end I think we had simply become very different people. My son asked me recently if I thought there was actually a One, that is, the One great love that you'll find (or maybe sadly not find), and I told him that if his mother wasn't the One then there is no such thing.

She was/is a very beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman, and certainly deserved a better husband.