Thinking about the past is often agony. It's impossible to intellectualise it, feeling is the only way to process it. Maybe the door is your beating heart. I remember your writing about the trip to Amsterdam - perhaps it was a mismatch of expectations but you seemed to get so much happiness from that trip, sharing it with your kids, and your ex sounded uneasy in comparison...not really something which was your responsibility to solve, but his and his alone
Oh thank you doris, and for carrying that as a memory. I too remember that post, deciding against rereading it for wantng to trust my own memory. You are right, it was a good trip. That night I was tired from the train trip there and finding food to cook that my even tireder kids wanted to eat when my ex wanted us all to eat out. The joys of travel!!
Your front door looks vibrant and welcoming
Thinking about the past is often agony. It's impossible to intellectualise it, feeling is the only way to process it. Maybe the door is your beating heart. I remember your writing about the trip to Amsterdam - perhaps it was a mismatch of expectations but you seemed to get so much happiness from that trip, sharing it with your kids, and your ex sounded uneasy in comparison...not really something which was your responsibility to solve, but his and his alone
Oh thank you doris, and for carrying that as a memory. I too remember that post, deciding against rereading it for wantng to trust my own memory. You are right, it was a good trip. That night I was tired from the train trip there and finding food to cook that my even tireder kids wanted to eat when my ex wanted us all to eat out. The joys of travel!!