What can I say? Yep, it's been 14 years since my husband got himself on a plane and left the country. Really, that happened, and of course he neglected to mention it. Couples break up, even when your baby is six months old and you've just moved five hours away from the only place you've ever lived, and you know NO ONE. Not to mention, it was quite an experience living in a town with not just one, but TWO prisons. Fortunately it was short-lived and we found ourselves in good 'ole Broome County, where I still knew NO ONE but at least there wasn't any prison family population.
Yes, I made it but it wasn't easy, and for that matter, I figured it could only get better, right? Granted, optimism is not inherent in people; definitely an acquired state of thought, especially when obstacles never stop coming. Why is that? Why is God so hell-bent on challenging us? I mean, did I need to drive my Ford Taurus wagon through a bitter-cold upstate New York winter without heat? Sure, I finally got it fixed but we suffered a little, froze our noses off in the morning, our breath seeming to solidify in front of us. But with every failure, there was a triumph. With every mistake, there was an "okay" moment where I said, "I won't do that again!"
I never expected to remain single as long as I did. No one thinks they're going to be a single parent, raising their child (or children) alone. For me, no one seemed good enough to be the stand-in dad for Aziza, so I figured if she wasn't going to have the best, then she'd never know what was the worst. So with every one of my failed relationships (so hard to date with a little girl!), I was getting farther and farther away from it ever happening, basically giving up. Meaning, I would find myself, instead, 14 years later, writing all about it.
Stay tuned...
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