Quiet. Undecided

This is not fiction.

She’s leaving but not quite yet.

Away with friends tonight who will give her good advice, in her best interests.

And I’m certain they are agreeing with her that reconsidering was not what she really wanted. That she was right to swing through with the wrecking ball. There’s no clean way to do this, right?

And in seeing this, and knowing I don’t actually know this, but assuming it anyway, I see why she’s going.

Anxiety. Nothing work out right, will it? But it usually does. But that’s just a fluke! No, it’s not. And even if it’s not, you don’t deserve it.

Of course she’s leaving. But not quite yet.

I’m waiting at home, with the kids happily asleep, the kids who cuddled me tight while I tried to explain why daddy just can’t stop crying while they beamed back unconditional love. Love I just can’t quite ever feel like I deserve, but until recently I guessed I had. But right now I am right now just quiet.

She’ll come home into the other bed, or into this one, or not at all tonight, and I’ll furiously over- think what it all means, or she’ll send a text that makes it deathly clear.

But that hasn’t happened yet.

I am quiet. I do not know what will happen. And I am safe and warm and alive.

Quiet. Undecided.

(For what it’s worth, my money is on not coming home tonight.)