A Single Woman
If you'd seen me skipping down the street on Sunday morning, you would have thought I was off to meet an ilicit lover. I suppose I was, but said love involved knitting and purling and sipping hot drinks in a coffee shop.
I was just an hour. On my own. Just me. I nestled myself in the big comfortable leather chairs in the window and I pulled out my current project (yes, still Jasper).
As people began to walk by, I wondered if they knew I was a mother. Having not touched a child from the moment I dressed to the point of leaving the house, for once I wasn't covered in sick or runny nose markings. I had a sensible, but nondescript handbag. No toy cars, pacifiers or baby wipes littered my surroundings. I was "me" -- singular, just the one.
I imagined what people might think I was doing there. With my DSLR and large earrings, maybe a tourist. With my knitting, maybe a foreign visitor for this week's Knit Camp. Maybe just a mature student spending a Sunday morning in a coffeeshop, not an escapee from the routine of family life.
Then I spoke to Kevin. He told me he was in town and was I ready to meet my little family.
"Yes," I replied, "We'll be right there".
I realised instantly what I'd said. Maybe I wasn't so single afterall...