I am always surprised at how low I can go on the day I say good-bye to my girl for another week at her dad's.
It's been almost 6 years since she left for a new apartment. It used to be that it was the end of the weekend, and I would dread beginning the week. A void was left in my heart every other week.
There were many shifts I went in for in tears, with palpitations.
Eventually, it became clear to me that the schoolweek that followed depended on the weekend before, and after a few months of relentless advocacy, the day to say goodbye became Friday.
It has evolved from an evening of tears, complete with sobbing to a recurrent disappointment with plans falling through and a bag of potato chips and a bag of licorice.
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