Letter to Polly

Now that it's almost over with the house and long marriage, I'm so sorry, but I have some things I still need to say. Not saying they need to be shared, to Mary. Just saying they need to be shared.

I'm frankly ashamed it's to you, Polly. But I suppose the reason I am sharing, to you, is I still have this dream of having my unforgivable sin forgiven by Mary.

My sin is this mostly painful thing with Leota, and the other women, has shown me the beauty and harmony of what Mary and I had as a couple, as a unit, as a community of two.

My sin is I now see I needed to love Mary more, burn for her more, in the way I do women with an unknowable capacity to love me, or destroy me, probably both.

As I've said before, I wonder/regret if I am/was that kind of burning to Mary. I only know I must finally admit she was/is not to me.

But there was love and moreso beauty in what Mary and I shared all those years. In our precious baby boy, Henry. In our homes. In our Thanksgivings and Christmases.

I am just so sorry and ashamed it took so long to become a man that can finally understand his own heart.