A Single Woman

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If you'd seen me skipping down the street on Sunday morning, you would have thought I was off to meet an ilicit lover.  I suppose I was, but said love involved knitting and purling and sipping hot drinks in a coffee shop.

I was just an hour.  On my own.  Just me.  I nestled myself in the big comfortable leather chairs in the window and I pulled out my current project (yes, still Jasper).  

As people began to walk by, I wondered if they knew I was a mother.  Having not touched a child from the moment I dressed to the point of leaving the house, for once I wasn't covered in sick or runny nose markings.  I had a sensible, but nondescript handbag.  No toy cars, pacifiers or baby wipes littered my surroundings. I was "me" -- singular, just the one.

I imagined what people might think I was doing there.  With my DSLR and large earrings, maybe a tourist.  With my knitting, maybe a foreign visitor for this week's Knit Camp. Maybe just a mature student spending a Sunday morning in a coffeeshop, not an escapee from the routine of family life.

Then I spoke to Kevin.  He told me he was in town and was I ready to meet my little family.  

"Yes," I replied, "We'll be right there". 

I realised instantly what I'd said.  Maybe I wasn't so single afterall...

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