i could shake my tiny fist

As if this day really needed an injection of WTF, my ex-husband sent me an instant message this afternoon. It was a kind message; apparently he had read about my dad’s catheterization in my journal, and expressed relief that he was okay.

What ensued was a civil, normal, mature, hour-long conversation, devoid of any emotion or angst, just catching-up chat, that sort of thing.

And when I sensed he was getting snarky with me, I excused myself with a simple “Talk to you in September!” Since it had been that long before today that he told me he no longer wanted any contact with me.

As I drove home, I congratulated myself on keeping it light. For once.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.