My mom never liked my wife

immediately—loopy, neat, elegant. My throat tightens.

“Dear Matthew,” it begins.

“I didn’t want to cry that day, but I couldn’t stop myself. I saw the way you looked at her, and I knew I had lost you. Not to her, but to time. To the man you’re becoming, to the life you’re building. Still, I pray that I’m wrong about her…”

I blink hard. My chest clenches.continue reading …