Moving today/tomorrow.
Waking slow. Is today a holiday? Birdie thinks so. She wants to snuggle in.
But we need to eat, walk, take a cold shower, face the day.
Waiting for the dark of no electricity at the old place. My timing has been off for a while.
Remember when moving was much like changing jobs; every time the rent went up, when the raise didn’t happen…change.
Then one year became three became eight became a want for roots.
Marriage was my constant. The thing that grounded me. The thing around which all things pivoted. It was my constant until it wasn’t.
His tiny mind thought there was another, an other love for me. He couldn’t rationalize that other was his. His friends, his coworkers always before me, then the IMs.
His new marriage is as old as our divorce.
