I distilled all of the hopes for my marriage into one wish. Boiled it down to the black, brittle, crust of a kettle boiled dry. One wish that my husband would love me.
I have made my life, my existence shaved down to one letter. I am not comfortable with my maiden name. It does not fit any longer. There is no honesty in my married name. The only part of my name or my life that I have identified with for a very long time is my first initial. It’s not even unique. I shared it with my grandmother and my sister.
M. One letter alone without the company of any other letters to explain its existence.