Little by little.

The night Cautionary Husband signed his lease, I lay in bed in the guest room trying to reassure myself that the separation wouldn’t be final until I had signed a lease.  Until we had an apartment for each of us.

Once I’d signed my own lease two weeks later, I began to think that the separation wouldn’t be final until we’d sent in our 60 days’ notice on our apartment.

Once the notice was sent in, I convinced myself that we could back out, break leases, do whatever we wanted until we moved out.  That we wouldn’t have to be separated until we moved out.

Now that we’ve moved out, I keep thinking we have until the lease on our old place is officially expired on the 25th of this month, or until someone else has signed a new lease.

But I know in my heart that the moving was the one that did it.  And every night when I return to the old place to gather more things to take with me to my new home, kitchen utensils, socks, pots, and coffee mugs, that, little by little, I’m finalizing it even more, the home we shared together literally ripped in half.


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