That's 6:20 in Toronto. Too early to send a morning greeting. And I probably shouldn't do that anyway.
I hop out of bed, not quite remembering the list of things I have to do today.
I'm alone. I think about this, feeling the quality of the apartment's stillness. Even though I often wake alone on the days that my son leaves early for work, today's solitude is different. I have to get used to this.
Get laundry started. I make a mental tick against that chore as I shove dirty socks and towels into the washing machine.
I had coffee with a friend a couple of days ago. She's another single mom. When our kid's leave, it's different for us, I told her. Us, as opposed to them -- married parents.
She nodded. They're not just our kids, they become our social lives too.
I knew she'd understand.
This feels like a divorce.
I have to shower now and get on with my day.
There is a lump in my throat.