So the New Year and the new life begins. I have returned home and I find the shadows of things that had been there, but not the things. There are spaces. Gaps on the shelves. Rectangles of dust on the wall around a couple of picture hooks. Things I used to walk around that now I don’t have to.
And most painful of all… no-one else’s toothbrush in the pot.
Nothing unexpected either there or not. Well, maybe a couple, but not really a problem. not worth conversation, let alone an argument. I was not in control of everything that he took and none of it looks unreasonable. It’s just gone, and I’m aware of all the painful absences. Things I didn’t even want are noticeable, and, though I think I’m glad they’re not here, it’s the why that is difficult.
The flat has a different feel, like it’s not sure of itself – or is that just me. Because clearly we both have to find a way to be. How to get used to the different noises, what to do when there’s no one else coming home. How to make it feel like I’m glad to be here, not just sad to be here. I slowly have to turn what was ours into what is mine.
Like with most things, some days its ok and some it is most definitely not. I know I’ll be fine. I know things will get easier. I know all the good stuff that all the people that know me well keep telling me. I don’t have the funds to make all the changes I could in one fell swoop, so everything happens one tentative step at a time. But it hurt to sort the bedroom for just myself for the first time in twenty one years. And the pleasure of making the bed up with my favourite bed linen, and nice candles in the room just wasn’t the luxury it could have been.
I did, however, make sure that on my first night back here, alone in my freshly made bed, I slept right in the middle.
Can We Do This Well? 