My Sons Gf Version [PROVEN — Collection]

You see me at Thanksgiving, passing the mashed potatoes, laughing at your son’s old baby photos. You think: She’s polite. Quiet, maybe. A little guarded.

I remember the first time I met you. I spent two hours picking out a sweater that said “respectful but not try-hard.” I practiced your name in the mirror. “Mrs. ——.” Not too formal. Not too casual. When I walked in, your son squeezed my hand so hard I lost circulation. That was the only thing keeping me from shaking. My Sons GF version

That’s my version. It’s not the enemy of yours. It’s just… mine. You see me at Thanksgiving, passing the mashed

But here’s my version.