We are on holiday. Well this was written when we were away….
Me and three musketeers, my knee high companions, my beautiful family.
It’s delicious. We are on a review trip with Madame Vacances, our villa is luxurious, the complex quiet and perfect for our needs.
Most of the time I feel so happy and relaxed my world is utterly complete.
Then at times there is just a whisper.
An echo of what family holidays used to be, and it is then a tear threatens to spill.
Packing was stressful, to the point as I boarded the plane a coldsore erupted on my lip the size of China. Our diabetic kit took hours to pack, the airport made me unpack every last needle and insulin vial. I stood with security as we examined my medical letters for what felt like hours.
My ten year olds minded my six year old as my lip swelled and my stress levels hit maximum.
Thankfully the plane ride was I eventful barr a three hour delay.
Similarly the car drive to St Jean Des Monts was a breeze, Barr the two hour detour we took around France as we realised not one of the four of us own a sense of direction.
I have digressed.
I still can’t imagine holidaying with a bloke who isn’t the Dad of my three. To be fair I can’t imagine holidaying with him either – the Cold War looks positively friendly compared to our broken world currently.
So I chose to go it alone, and for the most part it is incredible. Me and my babies, doing whatever we please. Staying up till midnight, sleeping in till noon.
Riding pedalo bikes that were meant for two adults and kids but fighting through the pain in our quads as we make life work.
It’s weird how life works out.
This isn’t what I chose and sometimes, after a painful divorce, I am shocked by the whisper that makes me ache for my former life, for the partnership I once had.
Then my kids clamber upon me. They remind me loneliness may never be my companion.
And I forget the whisper and simply settle into being.
A single mum, with her gorgeous three.