I'm on my own for a couple of days, as my husband has gone to the cabin. I like the break. I don't have to plan meals or get back at a certain time or call. I like wandering the house without encountering him or the dogs. I talked to him after he got up there and he didn't have any news. Of course you don't have any news, I replied. Neither do I. We just saw each other three hours ago. He likes me being around constantly, so I feel like a rat, but I like my space. After all, I had four kids and no privacy most of my life. So I'm due a bit now. I'd also like to not talk the time he's away, but I'm too soft hearted to do that to him.
None of this can be said. Or rather it need not be, as he knows I like a break from him, and why rub it in? He's got some sentimental idea of two joined at the hip. He doesn't actually do much with me when he's home, it's just the IDEA of me being upstairs or out in the studio that comforts him as he does a puzzle or looks at his laptop. We coexist beautifully, but I need the trip I just took and the one coming up in a couple of weeks.
It works. Because I know he knows and he knows I know what he wishes and we live pragmatically with being the odd couple. But I often feel a tinge of guilt, and maybe, just maybe, he enjoys my time away as much I do when he's gone. But he won't admit it.
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