And suddenly, there it was. The remainder of my life unveiling before me.  

After earning my MFA in creative writing degree, I’ll reluctantly move home to Nashville. In a few years he, my dog, Deb, and I will move into an apartment near the city. He’ll propose shortly after and we’ll marry within the year. He’ll be working in sales and I’ll be working retail at the local mall. I’ll say that it’s temporary. I’ll say that I haven’t given up on my writing.

Deb will pass around our early thirties and a part of me will die along with her. Shortly after, he’ll bring up having kids. He’ll do so delicately, knowing I never wanted to have children. Eventually I’ll convince myself that a baby will fill the void created by the loss of Deb. I’ll believe my friends with kids of their own who guarantee I’ll fall in love the second I lay eyes on my newborn baby. Nine months later, I’ll feel nothing of the sort, but pretend that I do. I’ll try not to resent him or the baby, but I will, and I’ll hate myself for doing so. 

If it’s a girl, our alikeness will make her believe we are adversaries. She and I won’t be able to spend ten minutes alone together without fighting, and she’ll cry in her room at night because of it. He’ll be the favorite parent and the older she gets, the more she’ll come to hate me. She’ll promise herself to never be like me- her horrible, resentful mother she can’t wait to get away from. Years after she’s moved away, I’ll find my unfinished collection of micro-memoirs hidden beneath a pile of dust. I’ll look outside of my front door to see the neighbors’ kids riding their tricycles along the white picket fence that lines our freshly cut yard. I’ll wallow in a life I’ll have deemed so woefully mundane and so far from everything I’d ever wanted. I’ll blame him for my pain, for the child I never wanted, for my heaves of regret because of where my life is and where I wish it would be. I’ll resent him because I’m not a writer, because I gave up on my dreams and aspirations to travel the world. And when our time on earth comes to an end, we’ll have both deserved better. 

-Abby Hudgins

Abby Hudgins is a Nashville, Tennessee native. She holds a Bachelor's degree in English and Creative Writing from the University of Mississippi, and a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, specializing in creative nonfiction, from the University of California, Riverside. Abby's work primarily focuses on mental health awareness, women's rights, and generational trauma. Abby currently lives in Nashville with her dog, Debby, and her turtle, Denis. In addition to creative nonfiction, Abby too is a passionate screenwriter who plans to write the next best post-apocalyptic screenplay. When she's not writing, Abby enjoys puzzles and games, painting, movies, and a hearty glass of red wine.