This old chair that I’m sitting in, has seen better days. An old upholstered Lazy Boy that I bought used 15 years ago. Banished to the garage, we’ve set up a make shift cigar lounge and satellite office for me out here.
With Polly’s wi-fi laptop and my standing brass cigar ashtray I noodle away the afternoon.
Smoke rises from my mouth and I remember many a happy times sitting in this chair with my kids. They were my snacking buddies, always happy to help dad with his chips and dip as we watched a football game, or the Teletubbies or a movie.
To get rid of this chair, would be to get rid of a part of my life. I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.
I think about them all the time. I just don’t torture myself anymore.
I wish Moira would send the kids down here for the summer, or a part of it. . . but that will never happen now.
When I left Seattle and ended the fight, she got everything she was asking for. Little or no contact with me and my kids, and if there was any, it would be for 5 hours under court ordered supervision.
Kids need their Dad, maybe she will understand that; or Maybe Dom is their Dad at this point.
Sad state of affairs and little I can do to appease a psycho control freak.