HNT

Kay and I watching the sunset in advance of the fireworks display on Independence Day. The photo is a little blurry, but then, so were we.

Our search for a small town in which to celebrate the Fourth took us to the lovely harbor town of Port Jefferson—the friendliness of the village’s name being an additional lure. There, we saw fireworks, watched a parade and fucked in the back of a Hummer. I love this country.

Independence Day is a special holiday for me, in that it the anniversary of the end of my marriage. Following a disagreement about a business trip I made, and after months of bitter feuding and vast silences, my ex wife exiled me to an apartment owned by her father. He encouraged me to go, saying his daughter would never calm down until she had time to get over her rage. I moved out on Independence Day. That was seven years and two custody cases ago. Perhaps, one day, my ex wife get past her rage. Perhaps, by that time, she’ll see that it no longer impresses me.

Kay and I talked about this anniversary as the sun set. “I know the divorce was hard,” she said, “But I’m lucky your ex wife wasted your marriage.”

“Me too, honey,” I smiled. "Independence ain't bad."