Sometimes I read, or hear a word or a sentence, or perhaps a paragraph that describes something in a way I have not heard, or read before. This time it was my wife who was reading a book titled WIVES BEHAVING BADLY by ELIZABETH BUCHAN, who brought this paragraph to my attention as she was taken with it, as was I when I read it. It describes an ex husband named Nathan who is still more friendly with his ex wife than his current, and he enjoys her company as does she his. Any more of the story is irrelevant as this paragraph of his dying in her living room as they visited is the wording I want to pass on.
He was still Nathan - he was still evident in the bone structure, the angle of the chin, the width of the forehead. Yet he had become remote. Between one heartbeat and the nonarrival of the next, he had weighed anchor and rowed far away. He had sped past his children, past his life with me, toward a horizon of which I had no knowledge.