By Sonya Huber
We both welcomed something as normal as a car accident.
My newish boyfriend Cliff, my five-year-old son, and I were halfway to Ohio from Georgia. The plan was that my son would see his dad, I’d do some freelance teaching, and we’d go to my best friend’s wedding and then a few days in Costa Rica, our first vacation. It was a jammed schedule, but I was a pro at cramming chaos into a calendar. We stopped in a sea of brake lights on that misty summer evening in North Carolina and tires squealed. We ricocheted forward, colliding with the bumper ahead.
My stomach dropped as I glanced at him. I think I was waiting for the nice-guy veneer to wear off, or waiting for him to wise up and flee this ramshackle dating-a-single-mom situation.
Cliff smiled at me and sighed, then glanced to the back seat. “Everybody okay?” Continue Reading…