It will be 24 years in March; but if you add the 15 years I somehow lasted in another, now dissolved marriage, you could say I'm a veteran of nearly 4 decades of wedded life. Less often now, I ask who ruined what; or, what does it really mean to watch love turn into a wreck? I never thought I'd do it again. Newly wary then, even the mysteries of solo motherhood held for me unequal parts foolish pride, untested courage. Yes, we still flounder through narrow, half-lit passages. We make hot soup and bread when despair knocks on the windows. Wars go on, birds keep flying south to winter. A wolf moon hauls its mottled halo through the trees. We fall asleep in bed—one's leg hooked around the other's.