The Thanksgiving He Sent Away
My mother tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and said, "Call when you land, not because you're weak, but because you're loved."
For once, leaving didn’t feel like running away.
I didn’t see Roman again.
Before boarding, I received a message from an unknown number.
[I'm sorry. Thank you for waiting for me once.]
I read it and deleted it.
Outside the window, the plane climbed through the clouds, and the Chicago shoreline grew smaller and smaller below.
I didn’t look back.
From now on, I would no longer be a gift sent to the wrong address.
I would no longer be the wife someone could ask to wait.