She could remember when seeing his name in her Inbox made her heart race with excitement. Now seeing his name in her Inbox made her palms sweat. She let the cursor hover over his name. She didn’t want to click to open his email.
She’d have to decide what to write back.
Did she even want to write back?
Being nice was her thing. She’d been supportive. She’d been there. She’d listened and responded.
Was there anything positive coming out of this relationship? If this was positive, why did it feel bad?
Were there healthier places to invest this energy?
Was she opening and answering emails because she was afraid there wouldn’t be another to come along.
She closed her laptop and stared out the window at the park.
Her daughter came up and said, “Mom… are you interruptible? Can I ask you something?”
She looked into her daughter’s blue eyes and found the answer she’d been looking for:
Would she – one day – want her kids to
pin their hopes on this kind of relationship?
She opened her laptop and deleted his email before opening it.