I hadn’t seen the breakup coming. On Friday night we had dinner with his daughters and talked about summer plans and on Monday he ended it. The loss of my fantasies around the relationship led to an accounting of my failures, turning a week of grief into months of wondering what was wrong with me.
The Monday after I returned from my reclusive month of finding peace in New Mexico, I looked out my window to see a small silver truck blocking my driveway. “Damn construction crews!” It had been happening for nine months. Every. Single. Day. I tried to let it go . . . until I couldn’t.