![]() If I’d had any idea how much heartache the ruggedly handsome man who sat down next to me at a bar and ordered a bottle of Budweiser would cause. ![]() He settles those sharp gray eyes on me, the ones that ensnared me four years ago. He’ll realize that he doesn’t want to live without us. He’ll realize that he can fly planes anywhere, including Toronto. I hope that my mother is right, and a few months without a wife to cook his meals and warm his bed will jog a change in perspective. ![]() But for him to simply fly us here and set our belongings on the cold, hard ground next to us. Expressing feelings has never been one of Wren’s strengths. But how can he just let us go like this? When I announced that my ticket was one-way, he did little more than grunt. He’s right we can’t keep doing this, especially if he’s not willing to sacrifice anything to keep me around. If going back to Toronto is what you need to do, then I’m not going to stop you.” He looks desperate to be back in the air, away from this never-ending fight. Wren looks past me, watching a commercial plane as it takes off from the nearby international airport. I’ve just kept on giving this man parts of me, not realizing that I was losing myself in the process. ![]() And what am I left with? Dinner plates that grow cold from waiting, a toddler who asks for “Dada” incessantly, and this inhospitable subarctic soil that I’m lucky to grow weeds in. ![]()
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