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This Is That

There’s nothing wrong with me. I just happen to be a woman of a certain age, same as any other woman in my particular circumstances. Alone, yes, but maybe this happens to be by choice. And maybe it’s just a temporary thing anyway. Maybe I have a plan and maybe I’ll go through with it. Maybe I’ll show them what I’m made of, though they of all people should know my mettle by now. Maybe I’ll make them pay.

They…who? My husband, for one. Okay, my ex-husband. But this is an old story, one told over and over, everywhere, time and time again. Sure, I was young once. Sure, I was lovely. Maybe even beautiful. Maybe stunningly so. I’d heard this said, now and then. I fell in love with a boy, is what. Or at least I thought it was love. He was the one for me and I for him. Everybody said so. A first date. A second date, and so it goes. Dinner. A movie. The back seat of his father’s car. A blanket in a field somewhere. My mother’s living room sofa. The back seat of his car. His dorm room. My dorm room. His apartment. Mine. And so on and so forth. Wedding. First house. First anniversary. First baby. Second baby. Two miscarriages. Preschool, kindergarten, grade school. PTA. Church. New house. New car. Promotion. Parties. Middle school. High school. College... Read the whole story HERE.