To my husband, John: A Letter
I feel like I’m pulling you and the kids down… with me.
I wish I were the person you deserved.
I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.
You already lived through a hard climb out of poverty,
after your parents divorced in the late 1970s.
You were, what, twelve years old at the time? Younger?
You say I’m the best thing that happened to you. That you are the lucky one.
Will you feel that way when the medical bills
are more than the monthly income?
Will you secretly wish you could be free then?
I’m the lucky one. You want to stay when I am living with depression
and the threat of cancer.
I feel like I’m causing so much trouble.
But am I really worth it?
Have I actually earned this?
I am so sorry.
So, so sorry.