In The Broad Daylight

Like my mother and sisters before me, I have packed up and fled the north to be with my one true love. It was my greatest caper, one that I willed into existence with God’s good graces and a couple hundred bucks. Our world of two fits in a small bungalow, where my cats learned to walk up and down stairs. So much that plagued me seems dream-like and far away. I don’t think that I’ve been cured by romance, necessarily. Being loved is not the balm I always thought it would be. But being genuinely liked? That is a horse of a different color.