My last table of the night today was a young couple. The girl smiled at me as she rubbed her bulging belly.
"When are you due?" I asked politely.
"March 18th actually." She smiled across the table at her husband who was grinning from ear to ear. "It's a little girl."
"Congratulations." I beamed and offered to get them another refill of breadsticks.
As I walked away from the table I had to bite my lower lip to keep myself from crying.
A year ago, I was her. I was the happy, excited, in love woman with the bulging belly and the beaming husband. March 18th, the exact same day Evelyn was due. To be specific, if you were to ask me where I was a year ago to this exact moment I could tell you simply. I was preparing to get married at 10am tomorrow morning.
Thinking about this, and seeing her so happy and full of hope and promise breaks every inch of my already shattered heart. Some days, I wish I had not been so idealistic about how things were going to work out. And sometimes, sometimes I would give anything to go back to that day, to feel loved and beautiful and wanted and worthy.
I miss that feeling. I'm hoping it comes back soon.
To that happy, excited, enthusiastic couple: I wish you all the love, happiness and luck in the world. Perhaps you can succeed where I've failed.
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