As much as I love Sydney, it gets insanely hectic on weekends. And because Australia is a big place, it’s easy to get away to a million and one places on the weekend. A two-hour drive north, south, or west, and you’re in a different world (head east from Sydney and you hit the coast). Not many people realise, but the land mass of Australia is pretty much the same as that of the United States. If you were to get into you car and drive for a couple of hours, where are some places you could end up?
And so yesterday marked one year since everything I knew to be real and stable crumbled under my feet, like standing on a shattered pedestal that you can feel moving beneath you as you lose your balance. I fell and I fell hard. There are moments when I think I’m having more good days than bad, and other days when I think those moments are me being completely delusional.
But yesterday, I felt good. We went out on Saturday night and had an amazing meal, followed by an equally amazing mind-blowing orgasm. My husband’s tongue knows no bounds. (Yes, I realise the irony of that statement.)
So when I woke on Sunday morning, I felt a little more “connected” to my husband.
And I felt the urge to get out of Sydney. To get amongst the trees, the fresh air, the silence.
So we piled all three little one into the car and headed off to the unknown. We spent the day being a family, talking, laughing.
I must admit, thoughts of the affair did not cross my mind very frequently at all. And when they did, I pushed them away.
I know I did.
It was a good day.