Today, I found myself in a kitsch store fingering pale pink baby blankets and velveteen unicorns. Why? Because, in some other life, I would have been an aunt this weekend…
My ex husband and I haven’t spoken (not so much as an email) in about two years. I still hear about him through the grapevine, as I’m sure he does me. I have no desire for this to change. He is an EX part of my life and I like it that way. Our past together was destructive and abusive. It’s not something I’d like to revisit, on any level.
And then yesterday I heard that his sister had a baby. Wow. What to do with that news? I always liked his sister. She was sweet and innocent and bubbly and vulnerable. I enjoyed having her as a sister-in-law. My first impulse let me to an adorable boutique store near my office with the thought that I could buy her baby something special, get her address from a third party, and send it with a note expressing my congratulations.
And then (there always seems to be an “and then” where exes are concerned, doesn’t there?) I realized that it was a bad idea. Not only would it risk reopening that welded shut (by me) line of communication, but it is also not my place. We are no longer connected. If, in those early days of the split, either of us had tried to establish independent communication or an independent relationship, then I would be able to communicate my happiness for the new way in which her life has expanded. We didn’t. In the awkward as ass aftermath of a divorce time slipped away and now it is too late.