Glued

I look around my house. Now just my house—in practice if not yet legally. It feels so different. I’m still happy with it. It just feels—diminished.

I’m diminished.

No matter how much happiness the future brings, my little family will now always be broken. My kids’ mom will never again be my wife. We’ll glue things together however we can make them fit. I suppose we’ll all come out of it stronger.

It’s like...I don’t think I’ll ever be as proud of anything I accomplish as I was of the things that Andrea and I accomplished together. Providing my kids a home is not that same as providing our kids a home. I can see a bright future, but it isn’t as bright.

Which is a foolish thing to be mourning. Life’s been good to me so far. There are people in this world who would gladly trade their troubles for mine.