Five years ago. Seventeen-Year-Old Paris
I love watching my father in his garden. He's always planting flowers. His garden is his happy place. Watching him right now, smelling his roses, makes me smile. Ever since he divorced my mother six years ago, he's suffered terrible depression. He didn't want things to end between them, but his life with my mother was never a bed of roses.
They were high school sweethearts back in Seattle, where they both originate from. He once told me that he'd loved her from the very first moment he saw her in kindergarten. Pity she didn't love him the way she claimed to.
My father was so in love with my mother that he couldn't wait to marry her. But my mother had a dream, and that dream included relocating to California. So, as soon as they graduated, they mo
