“How do you mend a broken heart?”

Of all the days that he could have called while he is over in Morocco, he didn’t do it yesterday.  I still haven’t heard from him, which is okay, but some of the wives with whom I communicate have heard from their husbands on a few occasions.  Not just once, not even twice.  Three times or more!  And my husband couldn’t find the time to fucking call me on fucking Mother’s Day!!  It’s special occasions like this where the phone bill for a couple of minutes doesn’t goddamn matter.  I cried myself to sleep last night, convinced that he was absolutely too busy and didn’t even get a chance to get his hands free – not even a minute to himself.  At this point, I want to say that I don’t care if he comes home this week or next week or next month, but it wouldn’t be true.  Yes, I am frustrated & very hurt, but I just want to have him home and in my arms….and apologizing to me as if I would never forgive him.  Eventually, I will.  Just not today.

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