Growing up, I wore homemade clothes because my parents couldn’t afford labels or even store-bought dresses. It made me feel inferior, but also loved beyond belief, because every garment I wore had been lovingly designed, cut and sewn by my mom. Where do I write that on Facebook?
My short-term goal is to work saner hours, my dream is for my son to get to know his dad, and my secret fantasy involves a happily-ever-after with Luke. Facebook remains totally oblivious of all that.
I choose not to confirm Luke as a friend. A Facebook friendship would be so much less than what we once had.
That leaves me one option: I have to go to the reunion.
No comments:
Post a Comment