Have you ever forgotten for a moment that someone you love has passed away and reached for the phone to call them?
It still happens to me with my grandmother, all these years later.
Divorce can be a bit like that.
Sometimes you forget, ever so briefly, that your relationship is dead.
I took the kids for a haircut yesterday in Leichhardt. When they were little they shared a nanny over that way – I spent endless mornings and evenings criss-crossing the Anzac Bridge.
I’d usually call my ex-husband on my way home to ask if he wanted a lift – his office was near Star City – on our way through.
It was around noon when we walked out of the hairdresser and I thought, I’ll call Stu and see if he fancies having lunch with us … Then my heart stopped as I remembered we don’t do that any more because he left me.
Somehow, for a fraction of a second, I’d forgotten.
The realisation didn’t devastate me the way it once did. I only felt the briefest flicker of sadness.
That was my old life and it hadn’t been a happy one for a very long time.
I took the kids to Mamak for curry and roti – one of our favourite places when we were still a nuclear family.
There were only three of us around the table, but it didn’t feel like something was missing … other than another round of roti.
We chatted and laughed and dripped delicious curry down our T-shirts (well, the youngest did, I’d better go and belatedly soak it after I press send on this post).
And I felt incredibly lucky – yet again – that my kids are so happy and well adjusted despite their mum and dad letting them down by not staying together.
Song of the day: Violent Femmes “Gone Daddy Gone”