I'm writing a book. A book based on my experiences. Writing it takes me back to days gone by so this morning, I wrote another letter to someone I used to know. I almost sent this one and then I thought better of it. Maybe it's not fair to send it. Maybe that time has come and gone. Maybe if he wanted me to say such things, he'd have something to say to me, but those days are gone. He can't or won't or just doesn’t have anything left to say. Now there's nothing left between us except all the things we should have said but we didn't. I know we've both moved on and he knows I am in good hands now, but I so want to tell him that before I had my husband to take care of me, it was him who helped me get through the rough spots. So, I wrote the following letter and like so many before this one - I didn't send it... I just wrote a chapter on the day my grandmother died. Writing it was rough. I know you might be thinking, ...
The misadventures of a Jersey Girl that crossed the pond