I am divorcing and my children are with me half of the time (seven out of fourteen days, to be exact). Remaining a parent, under these conditions, makes our telephone conversations like the fruit that gets pressed on the spike to make juice. If I squeeze it hard enough, I will get the sweetest, largest drink. With every question, every detail, I squeeze and twist harder.

So, hearing their stories gives me this tell-able past. It's a past that I cannot have but can at least hear told, so I cling to their stories. I spoke with my children tonight on the telephone, and it reminded me of how each one of them has become a story in his or her own right.