I Thought We Were Happy
I thought we were happy he said.
Because he was happy.
He had given up nothing.
He had his hunting, fishing, and trapping.
His wife had her cooking, cleaning, and housework.
Surely that was more than enough to make her happy.
In the evenings she could sew or tat a doily or something.
He kept all of his friends but resented hers.
When her friends came by he glared them down
They left quickly, and he acted like he did not know what he did.
It did not take long for them to quit coming.
He was happy about that.
I thought we were happy he said when he found her note.
She had left, unexpectedly, and without warning.
He was angry about this; who would cook his food?
Who would wash his clothes and clean around the toilet?
He had loved his marriage and had no complaints.
What was wrong with her?
We were happy he said.
No one was listening.
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