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I Should Have Left the Light On
by Sarah Thompson
Updated: June 19, 2019
Originally Published: March 13, 2018
Looking back, I realize I should have illuminated the path ahead. I should have left a trail of markers.
Twelve years ago, I found myself as a young mother with three boys. They were so small, so dependent, and I was navigating motherhood solo. The twins were under a year old, and my eldest was just three when my first marriage officially ended, a mere six years after we had tied the knot.
A casual acquaintance from my past work life was introduced to me almost as if on a silver platter. “Here’s a guy your age who likes kids and thinks you’re pretty. You two should go out.” At the time, I was working like crazy, perpetually sleep-deprived (seriously, twin infants!), and utterly focused on keeping my little family afloat. I didn’t have the bandwidth for a “Prince Charming” to come in and save the day. Yet, there he was—handsome, intelligent, and seeing me as nothing more than a woman, not a “situation” or “someone with baggage.”
I agreed to the date, and we met at a lovely restaurant known for its exquisite wine selection and fresh mozzarella. The ambiance was warm, and for the first time in months, I felt human and happy—not just a mom, but a woman enjoying a night out. We talked for hours. I candidly shared that I hadn’t dated for a decade and that I embraced my role as a single mom. I made it clear that if he joined our family, it would be because he was lucky—not because he was doing me a favor. He had a freckle on his nose and seemed genuinely interested in my knowledge of wine and beer. Our first kiss under the crisp autumn moonlight left me knowing that it would be my last “first kiss.”
Fast forward through the usual milestones: meeting the kids, reassuring family and friends of his good intentions, and even vacationing with my ex-husband and his girlfriend (a twist that wasn’t in the script, but we did it anyway). We were in love—the kind of love that felt almost magical, where you couldn’t wait to rush home, where he’d be waiting outside, holding my boys, and I felt like I couldn’t get enough. Even a year in, being apart for work felt unbearable, and the way he looked at me made me feel beautiful for the first time in ages.
But then, the unthinkable happened. I’m still trying to pinpoint what it was. Perhaps it was the passage of time, or the cumulative stress of life’s challenges that began to chip away at our seemingly unbreakable bond. Maybe it was the transformation of our little ones into spirited pre-teens and teenagers. Or perhaps it was just the natural evolution of life as we aged—who knows? What I do know is that we lost our way.
Gone were the tender morning kisses, the greetings in the driveway, the nights spent entwined in each other’s arms. The flurry of affectionate texts and emails faded into silence. I no longer felt beautiful; I felt invisible.
Spending time together grew heavy with discomfort. Now that we worked at the same company, our conversations seemed to revolve around three themes: the kids, work, or arguments about both. The emptiness between us at night was palpable. I still applied lotion and perfume in the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would remember how to come close again. But those moments became few and far between, often unnoticed.
You might wonder, “Why didn’t you just communicate?” I assure you, we did. We tried. It just didn’t yield much. I searched for the remnants of us in books, discussions, old photographs, and romantic dinners. At times, we’d catch glimpses of what we once had—like tulips peeping through the soil in early spring—but those moments quickly faded, leaving me once again in the dark. The love wasn’t gone; it was just fleeting, like a whisper lost in the wind.
I still love him deeply. I have no interest in anyone else, and I know he feels the same. Yet, life has a way of stealing away our passions and intimacy, leaving us with a profound sense of loneliness.
As I look ahead, I worry about the future. What will happen when the kids leave home? Will we find ourselves lost in the monotony of daily life, laughing at reruns of old shows as if we’re separate entities? I want to continue searching for the connection we once shared, but frankly, I’m exhausted and feel defeated.
I should have left the light on. I should have marked the path with breadcrumbs to find my way back when we drifted apart. But this isn’t a fairy tale; we’re just two people trying to navigate life. Perhaps he will turn the light back on. I genuinely want to find my way back home.
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Summary:
In a reflective narrative, Sarah Thompson shares her journey of love, motherhood, and the challenges of maintaining intimacy after life’s upheavals. After experiencing a passionate romance, the couple struggles with disconnection, loneliness, and the fear of an empty nest. Despite the love that remains, they search for a way back to the connection they once cherished.
Keyphrase: relationship struggles after children
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