Every day, I still ask myself on why Jonathan left. Dreams and small memories haunt me on this question, and I cannot find the reasons why. Some nights, I wish I could go back to when we both would plan out our futures together, when it would be the dead of the night, and Jonathan's poetry would be spread out on our bed.

I remember when he would always wake me up from him working, telling me about his ideas and showing me what he had written down. It would be the most stupidest things, but he loved every single thing of it. Jonathan loved his words, and how he described every single piece of them. Hell, I loved how he would tell me and open up about everything, until the few weeks before he left.

And you could tell.

I have always had this theory that John planned out his little trip. I told him I was pregnant with Rosemary on a Thursday. Jonathan left me the next Wednesday. But before that, he was so distant. His friends had even noticed it too, because I do remember when his best friend, Adam, had suddenly popped up at our shared apartment, asking where Jonathan was and wondering if he had been weird with me the last few weeks.

My thoughts have always remained on if he was cheating on me. Jonathan would always come home late, sometimes drunk, and his hair would be disheveled as well as his clothes. I keep telling myself that was not the case, but who knows? My lips would not let those words blurt them out, nor could I have kept thinking about them. But, my thoughts are constantly moving around, and my conclusions are never correct.

But, I learned something.

At that time, when Jonathan had left me and it was just me and Rosemary, I thought I wouldn't be okay. My whole life, in my mind, was dependent upon him, only him. Now learning after the shit I went through, I am okay. I'm better off without him than I ever was. My beautiful daughter is by my side, and with Jonathan gone, everything is simply peachy.

It has been three years since he left and disappeared. I understand that things have changed, and Jonathan might not be where he wants to be anymore. Moving on is a bit part of it all, and I realize that it doesn't mean forgetting or pretending it didn't happen. It did happen, but it it time for me to accept that our paths aren't meant to cross again, or maybe they are meant to be, once again.

Moving on doesn't mean that I can't stop thinking about him sometimes, or how it used to be. But, it does mean that those memories are in the past, not hopes for the future. He is the father of my child, but all those other memories, they are meant to me moved on from. Moving on does not mean that a small part of me will not always love him, because I still do. It just means that I can start a new chapter in my life where it is slightly based on me, not him.

"Mommy!"

Rosemary's voice brings me out of my trance, and I feel a slump beside me, in my bed.

Looking to the destination of her voice, a large grin slides its way across my face as I see my little girl in her Dora pajamas, smiling at me with a few teeth missing in the front. Her wavy hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, which I remember putting up for her last night. She had been struggling with doing her own hair, to which I had finally begged her to play with mine while I put hers in a proper hairstyle.

It isn't that Rosemary could not put her hair in a ponytail. Her arms are just a tad too short for her to reach the top of her head, as well as the middle of it. I cannot understand why is that, but just guessed that is one of her traits inherited for her father. Sadly, I blame everything on her father these days, which I should stop. I understand that it is not good for Rosemary to hear those terrible things about Jonathan, but in all honesty, he is kind of a dick after what has happened.

"Good morning, baby," I drag out the ending and grab Rose's small body and pull her toward me for a hug. "How'd you sleep?"

Rosemary does not answer, but she nods back. Which, that either met she had a terrible sleep and she is lying to me, or she had a good one, but did not want to speak. She has had these troubles before, sleeping and whatnot, but it is because of her nightmares. If she doesn't have any nightmares, she will just stay awake all night to not have them, because she claims they are absolutely terrible, which I do believe her.

But, this time, I choose to ignore her longing gaze. She has the idea that I would ask her about it, because I always do, but this time, I was not in the mood. I am asking her later though, and will get an answer then. For now, we are scheduled to do nothing today since it is Sunday, except to be lazy and have our usual house routine.

"Alright, let's go eat some food."

That is a part of it, yes, but Sundays are movie days for Rosemary and me. Movie days, junk food days, and drawing days. Rosemary would usually draw the same thing over and over again, which are little, detailed flowers getting sunlight. Mine, well, they would change every Sunday, depending on my mood. My usual drawings would be of Rosemary, sometimes it would just be of the setting of my house. My moods are quite strange.

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"Mommy, who was that tall man yesterday?" Rosemary asks after finishing off her serving of eggs, setting her fork down with a loud chime.

My mind immediately switches to the day at the park. Forest eyes and curly hair with that damn fedora atop his head, Harry. She is talking about Harry, but I thought Rose already knew his name. I guess because of her lack of attention, she sometimes forgets people's names as well as not paying attention to something that does not catch her interest.

"That was Harry. Do you not remember?" I reply, watching her blue eyes wander around the kitchen. Here she is again, very distracted.

"I do remember, mommy. He just kept looking at you when you wouldn't look at him," a small pout forms on her face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"What do you mean, Rose?" Now, I am genuinely interested. That strange, yet very clever boy had been looking at me? Maybe I am misinterpreting what Rosemary has said.

"He was looking at you the whole time when you were looking at the ground and stuff. And, he had like this creepy smile on his face with his teeth showing and-"

"Okay, Rose. I get it," laughing, I walk over to her side of the table and grab her empty plate as well as mine. She looks as if she is out of breath from her little confession a few moments ago, and I actually think that is the longest sentence she has ever got in before collapsing from lack of breath.

"It's true, though. He likes you," she mutters the last part, walking over to where I was, which happened to be the dishwasher. Her small face shows no emotion except a little smile on her face, and I know exactly what she is exactly thinking. She is thinking about the last part she had mumbled under her breath.

"We just met, Rosemary. And since when did you become such a pro at this?" I ask, speaking about the whole 'Harry likes you' thing.

Rosemary has been in this position before, where guys would slightly flirt with me. But, every time we would speak about it, she would always say that she hated them the day after we all had met. She is very protective of me at times, especially when it comes to unknown men in 'our territory' as she calls it.

"I just know. I mean, all the boys like and want us," she got that saying from me. It was a joke between us, but I did not want Rosemary to actually think that is how life goes. Because, well, it's not.

A small chuckle erupts out of my mouth as I look once again at Rose's face. This time, she looks absolutely disgusted as she looks at the ground, and I cannot help but follow her eyes. And holy shit, there was a big ass spider on the floor, crawling toward my baby girl. It is strange because Rosemary is deathly afraid of them, but she makes no move to run away. Her eyes are still trained on it, with her mouth wide open and arms swaying slightly side by side.

Quickly reacting fast, I grab the kitchen broom and slam the damn thing on the spider. I keep hitting it until I know I have got it. Looking up, Rosemary is still in the same position as she was before. She is frightened, definitely, but frozen in the same spot. How could a spider do that to her? Well, hell, it scared the hell out of me so I beat its brain out with a broom.

"Are you okay, Rosie?" I ask using her old nickname, bringing her out of her trance. Her big blue eyes are now welled up with tears, and they are threatening to fall anytime soon.

"You killed it," she mutters, tears starting to pour from her eyes.

"Baby, I had to. You know scared we both are of them," to say this is childish is an understatement. Yes, we both are deathly afraid of them, but Rosemary should not be crying. Perhaps it is the fact that I slammed the spider's brains with my kitchen broom and she saw it. Rosemary is such a mystery to the mind.

"Okay," she pouts, wiping the tears off her cheeks with her small fists. "Do you- do you think we can go to the park today? I want to see Harry and Bobby," yeah, she is better after her small cry. Either Rosemary has a plan in her expanded mind, or she truly does want to see the two boys. Both ways, it was trouble for me.

"Rose-"

"Please, mommy," she drags out the end and puts her bottom lip out. Damn it, she is easy.

"Fine. We will go see Harry and Bobby at the park."