It wasn’t even a week ago that I called the house: “Hey, it’s me. Just checking to see how things are going.” Sean sat across from me, a plate of stuffed mushrooms between us, our hands laced together over the small corner table at Davidson’s. He was smiling, always tender as I struggle to gain purchase in the morass of loving time alone with him and feeling guilt for choosing to be away from the girls. “Oh, we’re fine. They’ve forgotten who you are.” My mom joked. “I should tell you, we’ve been doing body art.” “Body art?” I asked, Sean stopped nodding his head to the man singing the blues on the stage, and turned to me raising his eyebrows, “Body art?” he…
Categories: Love