My husband is taking another trip to my home state. This time, I'm staying home because the prospect of spending several days in a hotel doesn't appeal to me... especially the hotel where my husband is heading tonight. It's the same one we stayed in last month.
I don't need to go back to Williamsburg to spend more money at the outlets. I don't need to spend several days eating restaurant food. The dogs would rather not hang out at the kennel for several days. So here I sit.
I've actually started writing some fiction. I used to write short stories a lot when I was younger. In fact, that's partly how my husband and I met. He read some of my fiction and sort of became a fan. Since we've been married, I stopped writing fiction, mainly because I wasn't as inspired. Back when I used to write fiction every day, I mostly did it to stave off boredom. I am frequently bored now, but I don't have anything inspiring me...
But I did start writing last week and words once again flowed from my fingers. Instead of writing smutty fiction like I used to, I started writing about this situation with my husband's ex wife that has consumed us for the past decade. It's not a story I necessarily want to write, but it's in my head.
A lot of people have told me that I should move on... and I have tried. But I feel like I can't move on until I get this out of me. In all honesty, I don't know how my husband does it. I know he hurts everyday for the loss of his kids. So I'm writing about it. I don't know if I will share the end product with anyone. Maybe I'll post it here.
In the meantime, writing that fictionalized story will help pass time.