Can you see us standing in my driveway in the rain with your parents, as I tried not to cry? One by one we exchanged our goodbyes.
You were going places without me. Despite the bipolar, borderline emotionally abusive tenor of our couple, I was genuinely happy for you. You said you loved me, but couldn’t stand me.
Your mother’s thick Jersey accent and poufy dark hair wrapped me in a bear hug. Fervently she whispered, “You don’t ever let a motherfucker break your heart.”
Your own mother said that about you. I just thought it was time you knew.