That’s a lesson I learned roughly a decade ago when I left the love of my life behind. Choosing the child we made but weren’t ready for over any hope for what could be. Trading in potential for reality, my dreams for motherhood and the warmth of his embrace for a cold, lonely world.
Despite how tragic it all sounds, everything turned out okay. I made peace with my decisions, soothed the ache in my heart with harsh truths that have remained firmly in tact until…well, until now.
Now, I’m back in New Haven and nothing is the way it should be. The man I left behind is not the one I keep running into around town. He’s steady, dependable, stable, ready to be a father to our daughter and desperate to do more than co-parent with me.
Hunter
couldn’t stop wanting Rachel Prince if I tried. Not that I ever have. Tried, that is. Why would I when she’s the only good thing I’ve ever craved, the only addiction I’ve had that didn’t try to destroy me?
When she left me, I wasn’t mad. I didn’t want her to go, but I think by the end we both knew she couldn’t stay. There was too much darkness around us, and it was all emanating from me.
My addiction. My pain. My grief overshadowing hers.
I wasn’t the man she needed or the partner she deserved. She did the right thing, getting out, taking our kid with her. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
It does, however, make me determined.
To keep my decade long sobriety streak going.
To make up for every day I missed of my daughter’s life.
To win back the love of my life and never let her go again.