So here I am at my laptop once again, at the end of another week, writing yet another blog. Actually, I’m on an aeroplane right now, together with my daughter, on our way to England. Our final week has come to an end. Yesterday was our last day at home, and now, at 8.47 on a chilly Saturday morning, we are enjoying the lovely, luxurious leg room of Ryanair.
Of course that final week of ours wasn’t just any old week. Why? Well, if you read my last blog, you should know. And if you didn’t read my last blog because you were too lazy, or thought, Oh no, not HER again, then I have to say that’s very bad of you, and you really ought to be severely reprimanded.
But I’m not going to write about Crime and Punishment. Not now. Although I can sure think of some people who deserve at least a little punishment. There I go again with my new Americanisms … I can sure think – isn’t that just so cute? Cute. There’s another one. Ah, these Americans, these Americans … what can we do with them?
Okay. Back to the point.
The reason why this week wasn’t like any other week is because it’s been a major crossroads. For my daughter – leaving home and starting her exciting new life. For her mother, returning home and starting the rest of her life. As a single woman. A woman whose three children, two cats and one husband have all flown the nest. That woman is me, by the way. Duh. But here’s the thing. I’m not complaining. No really. Because while musing and pondering all last week, I’ve worked out some VITs. (N.B. VITs = Very Important Things.)
Firstly, when I return to my house in Krakow next week as a single woman bereft of my last remaining child, and turn the key in the door lock, and step inside the old family home, now empty, I shall embrace its silence. I shall no longer have to hear my daughter nagging me to eat more. Mum, you’re going to DIE if you carry on eating like that! Biscuits and muffins and cheese and crackers and wine and cigarettes (oops – that was supposed to be my guilty secret – but two ciggies a day does not make me a bad person, does it?) are not replacements for real FOOD!
Secondly, when I spend my first weekend alone after returning to Krakow, I shall look forward to meeting Errant Hubby for Sunday lunch. We’ve already arranged that, you see. His idea. He’s so thoughtful. Yes, the erring Philosopher and I are getting on SO much better these days. So much better that I’ve even begun to think: is this the whole point of marriage? To end up with a best friend of the opposite sex? So that when all the breathy, sweaty passion has worn itself out, and some nasty cataclysm crashes on you, like perhaps one of you has an affair (or perhaps you both do, but only one finds out), and the wounded party cries and tears at their broken heart (even though there is hardly any passion left in it – but there’s still human pride and dignity, isn’t there?), and then you split up, and the guilty party moves out, and the wounded party grieves some more, and probably so does the guilty party, because they didn’t have any choice in the moving out business … and then, after an appropriate period of mourning has passed, hey presto! – you suddenly end up becoming best friends. You could even call it a HAPPY ENDING. And they lived happily ever after, once they split up. That could make a good blog title, don’t you think? Oh, hang on – it is the title of this blog. I wonder if forgetfulness is a premature side effect of my new single life?
The third and final benefit of being a newly-made single woman, after you have successfully deposited your last child at university, and hidden your tears, and returned to your empty family home in another country, is that you are now totally, unremittingly free.
That’s by far the best bit. All this delicious freedom! I can feel it already: in my hands, in my hair, surrounding my innermost being. I can even TASTE it. Mmmm … it’s delicious, you ought to try some! No, I’m not kidding, it really is. It’s sugary and honey-sweet, with a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg and cheese and crackers and spice here and there, and the syrup of future dreams dripping down one’s chin on to one’s breastbone, then lower still on to one’s belly, and …
Oops, there I go again! The irrepressible blogger whose blogs somehow always, always end up being filled with spice. I just can’t help myself. I never used to be like this. Not until Philosopher-Hubby left home last autumn and filled my mind and heart with all sorts of confused feelings. And freed me up to make room for new feelings. But shhhh! I don’t want the Philosopher to know about this sudden swing in direction. After all, now that he’s been promoted to Ex-Hubby-cum-Friend, I wouldn’t want to hurt him. It would seem … well, a bit rude, don’t you think?
Anyway, better call it a day. The plane is approaching Stansted Airport now, and my beautiful daughter is waking up from her nap. Better concentrate on being a good mum.
So, all things considered, and due to a recent unexpected change in circumstances, the fear of having all that scary freedom and space in my life might not be such a cross to bear, after all.