In My Place
I scrolled through Instagram and through its tangled web of connections saw the picnic table on the deck set for breakfast. My sister in law follows my estranged husband’s girlfriend. The photo was my niece’s post. My dishes. My view of the lake. My place.
I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to adjust to my position of “estranged wife”. My husband moved into our vacation home four years ago when he decided we should separate after 28 years of marriage. We shared that place for 14 years as a family. I still feel it is my place. Legally it’s half mine. Yet, it’s still unsettling to find evidence of new people making themselves at home without me there. Looking around on social media is like picking a scab that has formed. I’m opening the wound.
Often, the signs of guests are more in my face:
I may never fully adjust to this modern family arrangement. It certainly is not happening in a linear fashion. I do know that I can never be replaced as there is no one like me. My place at the lake will always be mine. My place in the family orbit will ever be evolving.
Thank you for reading:)