Of late, I am not blogging much. And I decided to change that. It is 11.53 when I start writing this post and I am going to blog a few lines daily.
Today was a good day in all. As usual, it started with my husband, who my son has nicknamed as the family rooster, waking me up. Both of us, me and my son, always beg for that extra minute but the rooster always persists till we get out of the bed.
As I was sick the last two days, I had more help from the man of the house in my kitchen chores and after bundling off the naughty kid to school, I slept to regain my energy. The sleep did its magic and I even met my favorite author, Elizabeth Gilbert, in my dreams.
As always her presence, though it was in a dream, cheered me up. Later on, on Facebook, I read with a heavy heart that her marriage of 12 years had fallen apart. Though I felt sorry for her, I was in awe of her courage to face the numbness that loss of love brings yet another time. I had read earlier in an article that the divorce numbers were increasing across the world because women were becoming more aware of their rights and were no longer ready to be the submissive slaves of their husbands. They were stopping putting themselves last. A good beginning I believe.
But the heartache of a failed relationship does leave an imprint on the individuals who were part of it. If they had given it their all to nurture it, the shriveling up and dying will leave them shattered.
It is already 12. Let me hit publish on this bedside rumination now.
See you tomorrow.