That is, the 5 minutes between now and when I start getting ready for work. The small child is off-site. After I complained about too many perfect sunny days in a row, today is lovely and misty.
B and I have been negotiating over holidays, and my future reality sucks. Has a psychologist described this cycle: I want to be with my baby, I'm going to miss half the years, how did this happen to me, my ex wife's lover will spend as many holidays with my child as I will, why, why, why.
I'm trying to channel the fatalism and acceptance of many faith and cultural traditions: life isn't fair, life is suffering, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, sinners in the hands of an angry God-and all that. I was joking with my lady friend that I should offer LB's room that she never sleeps in to a Syrian refugee family, and then every day I could look across the kitchen table and realize how good I have it.
And life is good, but it's hard to turn around that cruise ship of expectation on which I spent every holiday with my child and my spouse. It's hard to accept without anger that we are all flawed and selfish and stupid, and that just is, and all my anger and sadness won't change what is.