Promise Me Sunshine

by Cara Bastone

But . . . the point isn’t trying to get where you’re not. The point is just . . . enduring.”

This is a love-life problem. An ache-in-my-heart problem. A hysterical terror at the thought of loving someone wholeheartedly. And maybe it’s also me realizing that I simply can’t love someone wholeheartedly. The love-maker in my chest is too injured. When it creates love, it creates dread in equal measure.

“Lenny, when I look at your face, I feel like I’m finally home after a really long day at work.”