At twenty, married to my first husband, I was so naïve about life, willing to follow him down a twisting dark path and easily deceived.
At thirty I was with my second husband, a marriage of necessity rather than love, because I knew no other way to ensure the well-being of myself and my daughter, and I had no faith in my ability to handle it alone.
At forty I married my third husband, who may have loved me in the beginning but had no idea of how to nurture a relationship, how to make it a priority and make it grow. I was pushed aside in favor of his first love... making music with the band, and then the drugs took over.
At fifty I grew weary of spending my life waiting to be valued and appreciated, weary of years and years of neglect and abuse, weary of waiting for love and always hungering for more.
Now at sixty, I am loved beyond all measure and I want for nothing more.
This post was written for Six Sentence Stories
where the theme this week is hunger. Join us!