A mom to come home to.
Seven years ago my husband sent me a text that would make me a single mom. A paragraph, describing an undefined and ambiguous period of multiple instances of infidelity that he had to get off his chest. My first thought was how to hide it from everyone. I wanted to be married. I wanted to be in a family where I could be the mom with a partner by my side. Where we would go on trips and own a house together; have pets, work on projects, go camping and hiking, build photo albums of our adventures, raise kids, watch our kids grow up and maybe one day be grandparents together. After one text, that was over and I would begin to realize, it had never been the reality. As I navigated my way forward, while trying to piece together the twisted mess before me, I wasn't given context, so I got a shovel and began to dig. That digging uncovered several years of lies. Lies that went so deep the ground beneath my feet gave way until I landed at my bottom. I had, for years, been blind. Blind to
