Deep Love: The First Half of My Life

“The biggest regret of my life was marrying that dancer.”

At my father’s funeral, his mistress wept and fainted beside his grave.

My mother, the “low-class” dancer he spoke of, was feeding pigeons in Paris.

On my phone was a photo of her new boyfriend, a descendant of French nobility.

“Sweetheart, let me teach you: men are like last season’s dresses. Toss them when it’s time.”

I smiled and deleted the eulogy I’d written for my father.