Men. I haven’t had the best track record with them. The first man in my life abandoned my family when I was only 12. He had instructed me to wait for him in my home on Trinity Street, where I lived in Lawrence, MA. Snow fell from the sky, covering the streets in white, like the blanket that cloaks newborns. An hour later, I sat by the living room window, peeking as cars plowed by slowly.
His car never showed. He didn’t call either. And with that, Papi vanished, not to be heard from again for another eight years.
What followed were a string of failed relationships with men who were just like Papi. Read the rest here!