The landscape of our family life has changed enormously in the past two months.
I'm handling the daily turmoil that comes with a separation, jerking from one emotion to another. My thoughts are an endless stream of non-sequiturs, and the children don't respect my need to lick my wounds in peace. I'm glad; their irreverent happiness and endless demands for attention don't leave room for wallowing, though there are days when I feel like I'm not waving, but drowning.
It's crippled my creativity, but I've kept writing - to friends, my sister, my husband. Maybe one day I can use this bleak time for something. For now, I'm waiting for it to pass.
And September is here; season of the spiders, pressed uniforms, stuffy central heating and turning leaves. The tribe are back at school...and this year, that means three of them. The house feels empty; the baby is a delight and our time together feels like a something to be treasured. She sleeps for a couple of hours a day - hours I could fill with distracting American sit-coms, and which I should fill with domesticity.
I really want to spend those hours writing, and on at least three days I've guiltily indulged myself, dragging myself back to reality for a school run that I'm not fully present at.
Perhaps I'm recovering - or perhaps next week I'll be sluggish again.
I just hope the baby doesn't grow out of her daytime naps too quickly.