Dear Michael,
When we met, it was the summer of Shania Twain, Mocha Iced lipstick, motorcycle rides, and the summer I became a 17-year old mother. But then you left us. Now, you're back to walk our daughter down the aisle. And you want a second chance?
I survived medical school. I survived to raise our daughter alone. I survived never knowing what was better than us. I won't survive to give you a second chance. I'm no longer that lovesick 17-year old girl.
Jill
.Not all second chances are the same. Some, are heartbreakingly beautiful.
