Naomi

My first wife was a “thrower-outer”. If she didn't;t have a use for something it was either given away or tossed in the trash. The one exception was anything the kids made, drew or collected.. The refrigerator was covered with their art and a special bookcase was set aside as the Silver Family Museum."###"

As the kids grew older many of these formerly treasured items were relegated to the dump heap. Only a few very special things were saved for the grandchildren we hoped to have some day."####"

This was not to be. When our last child left home, my wife left, too. She took a few things with her saying “I can’t bear to part with this.”"###"

“How is it that you can bear to part with me? I asked her."###"

She had no specific answer for this. She was not a sentimental person, and whatever sentiments she had for me had dissipated after 30 years of marriage."###"

The day she left some sympathetic friends introduced me to the woman who was to be my second wife Rita."###"

I guess I spent too much time talking about my first wife who was still constantly in my thoughts."###"

“Please, if you want to keep seeing me, don’t ever mention her to me again.” she pleaded."###"

This didn’t seem unreasonable, but after we were married, a year later, she insisted that I move into her small house, rather than live in my large one."###"

“I don’t want any reminders of your previous marriage around,” she announced. “That includes anything in your house. What is there now, stays there.”"###"

I gave in to her demand. What a sad mistake. Instead of my forgetting my life before we met, it only sharpened my memories and saddened me over the loss of any reminders of what I thought had been a happy life. But as the years went by I adjusted to her style and, though I felt as helpless as a leaf in a stream, I just couldn’t bear the thought of going through another divorce. "###"

Then one day in May, many years later, while vacationing with Rita in Vermont, we were roaming around, perusing the many tag sales resulting from spring cleaning after the long winter. At one house I saw a familiar object that took me back 40 years ago. It was a small wooden creation
slightly resembling a dog. I was sure it had been made by my son when he was 5 years old and attending a kids’ art class. It was one of the few items my first wife took with her when she left."###"

I bought the dog with my son’s initials and his age on it over Rita’s strong objections. She couldn’t understand why it meant so much to me. By this time she had cut me off from my whole family...not only my ex-wife, but also my children. Finally, after 20 years I got up the gumption to stand up for myself. I brought the dog (for that’s what I was sure it was meant to be) home and put it on the night table next to my bed."###"

It was only after I got back home that I discovered exactly how the object happened to be in someone’s tag sale in Vermont. I decided to call my son, in spite of my Rita’s attempts to cut off any contact. “Mom died last winter,” he told me . “She rented a place in Vermont. We gave all of the contents of her apartment that we didn’t want to her landlady to dispose of.”"###"

The tag sale contained only one remnant of my first marriage, but the discovery of the lost dog reunited me with my family again, and I finally decided to leave leave Rita and everything we had shared. "###"

But you can be sure that I took the dog with me. Today it stands by my bed as I get dressed to go out to dinner with my wonderful family."###"