To be honest, I don’t know what I was thinking the day we met. I just wanted to spend an uncomplicated day on the lake—to take a deep breath and clear my head. I didn’t realize it would lead to a bigger headache.

My plan for that afternoon was simple. I had a new Jet Ski to replace my older one, and I was going to ride it. It didn’t matter how far I went, or for how many hours I rode it. As long as I could taste the fresh air and hopefully keep the splashes out of my mouth, I’d find my happiness. When I’d bought my Jet Ski a few weeks earlier, the watercraft dealer told me how best to enjoy it. He told me, “Ride far, ride fast, and never look back.” I took his advice.

Problem was, I wasn’t looking forward, either. That’s what happens when you run from the past. I was too focused on my bubble to look anywhere beyond it. I should’ve looked forward. But maybe I was too afraid it would drive me to look back.

I couldn’t look back. There was nothing for me back there.

Forgive me for sounding pessimistic, but I have no other way to describe it.