help me write MY MEMOIR

I met Connor nearly 25 years ago.

We met on our adjoining balcony. He wore a white polo shirt and shorts, with a mustard-colored sweater draped around his neck like he’d stepped out of a catalog no one I knew subscribed to. He had a roommate, wore oversized suits, lived in a half-furnished apartment with old furniture, and clung to a flip phone long after the world had moved on to BlackBerries.

He didn’t dress like he had money. His style was nerdier than wealthy, and I love nerdy people. Nerds become our bosses. They make great leaders. And I so desperately needed to be led.

He didn’t act rich either. In fact, he never said he was. He was mysterious, and hot, and more unassuming than anyone I’ve ever been involved with, unless he was talking dirty.

But I was truly smitten.

He was beautiful. His eyes were so bright, it felt like I could see straight through to his soul.

His hair? Light blonde.

His smile? Mesmerizing.

His height? Perfect.

By the second time I saw him, he was knocking at my door.

That same day, my son’s mental state slipped again.

And as soon as I opened the door, it was him.

Connor.

I felt like God had sent me a White Knight in green shining armor.

He was Irish. Catholic. White.

I had Irish ancestry. Catholic. A mother of two. Six and a half years older. And I was a Black woman.

And every time I had a moment to think, it was about him.

I was overjoyed. Over the moon.

Floating in la-la land.

And, to be honest, I was often wet down there.

The Move:

I was being pressed to stop relocating once or twice a year. By the time he was in 4^th grade he had been to 3 different schools, and we had moved at least 5 times since his preschool years.

“He needs stability!”

“You can’t keep dragging those kids to every corner of the city like a gypsy.”

“No wonder he’s shy. You don’t give him a chance to make friends.”

After getting emotionally beaten up by his shrink, the family therapist, and my mother, I decided to buy a condo. At the time, it felt like the only thing that might settle me.

I never told Connor I was moving. I just moved.

Besides, I didn’t want to be anyone’s cougar, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to be my boyfriend.

So I moved on.