Every time my ex returns JT to my house, the house where he makes his home, this place that I work so very hard to maintain, as she walks back out the door she tells us, "have a good week." It's a throw-away line to fill the silence. Polite chit-chat.
Sometimes I wonder if she ever really thinks about the weeks that now shape my life with JT. Does she ever think about the life we had together? I miss that life and the happiness that I thought I had. I miss the companionship of a shared joke; the satisfaction I felt in raising a child together. I miss the history we had and the certainty of the future. I wish that I wasn't in this all by myself. I know that wishing doesn't make it hurt less or make the lies disappear. I know that wishing doesn't make it so.
And so, mostly, I try not to bother. But sometimes when she carelessly advises us to have a good week, I just want to say, "You have no idea." Because though it might look the same, my life these days is very, very different from what it used to be. This life is a daily reminder that I must look after my son; that I cannot fail him. That I must keep going. That I cannot give up.
Good would be so much easier.