I've been thinking about Mara today. I guess this would be one of my bad days. I have to quit doing this to myself, trying to figure out how things might have worked out differently if I had done this or that. But then I realize that this is not about me. Mara never really loved me. Not in the romantic sense. It was only a matter of time before she decided to take off.

That said, if I had to trace the failure of our marriage to one single thing, I would have to say that living in the same house with Mama had a lot to do with it. That was probably the beginning of the end, when Loretta died and we took over the house.