by Flora Burgos
At one of those Teen Nights dances, I met this guy. He was tall, he was gorgeous, he was funny, he made me feel safe and special, and he made me smile; a rarity for me at the time. We danced, we talked, and we traded numbers. It was bold and daring for me to do something like this. And it was the first and only time it ever happened. I was just a girl from a dysfunctional family with more problems than not. But that night, HE MADE ME SMILE.
We talked for months. Met up a couple of times to hang out and played at making a “long-distance” relationship out of it. But neither of us were ready for the intense connection that hung between us. Eventually, we drifted apart, and the phone calls dwindled and then stopped. Life went on, and we moved on. From time to time, the guy who made me smile would pop up in my dreams and my thoughts, and I would wonder about him.
It took five years for me to make that life-changing choice, one where I pulled out my Nokia phone and dialed the number that had hung in my memory bank for years.
Then we chatted.
And we chatted again the next day.
We talked so much that we discovered that instant connection we had felt years before was still there!
I fell in love with him over the phone. Listening to his breathing when we had no words to say and yet didn’t want to hang up; listening to him talking to the boys in the shop when he was at work and working nights; listening to him as he interacted with his boys over beer and shenanigans, talking or ranting over my day, or my family, or my life in general. The miracle was not that I fell in love with him, but he fell in love with me right back.
Me. The girl who had given up on the love and the happily ever afters that I devoured in the romance novels that lined my bookshelves.
Every book I write honors the love I share with my husband.
I may never write our story, but in every story I write, there exists a part of us.
Y’all, I have an amazing husband, and he deserves every bit of praise I can shower him with.
Finally, you will notice in my dedication that this book is dedicated to the warriors who battle mental health issues every day. The one with invisible scars and silent screams pulsing through their body.
You will see from Claire’s experience that depression doesn’t always hover over you like a dark cloud. Instead, there are really great days and really bad days.
I wanted her struggle to be as realistic as possible because it is such an important topic but please know that depression and other disorders do not always present themselves the same way. We are individual beings and as such, our illnesses are individual as well.
If anyone reading this ever feels hopeless, please reach out to someone. Anyone. Reach out to me if you need to. You are not alone.
You are never alone.
I’ve got your back, always.
XOXO,
Flora