King-Sized Bed for a Queen

Last night was my first official night as a separated spouse. I was way too lit to notice. However around 5:00 am I did notice. It was heartbreaking. But the good part was that for the last several months my husband has been staying out till all hours of the morning--he usually didn't get in till 3, 4, 5, 6, 7:00am. The Strip Clubs are open really late. He would be pissed if he knew I was talking about his Strip Club visits. Hey, I like Strip Clubs too--those women work hard for a buck. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. There is something quite liberating about having a big bed to yourself. My husband is a fool, but I do respect his decision to figure out who he is. I do not have that luxury of leaving...unless I want to add sorry-ass mother to my list of sins. I do not. I am clear about who I am. I always knew. I have long sense realized that you can't find out who you are in the eyes of friends, strangers or ridiculous notions of roles. My husband is in the mist of a crisis--a journey that he must walk on his own. He runs the risk of not having a caring wife, loving children and a community of friends that are trying to respect him. I have seen this movie. My own father was fucked-up like this and he never recovered. I, however remain Queen of my own thoughts and deeds. I have 4 kids to raise--so does he, but for me it is my life's work. So alone I go to my big king-sized bed, feeling pretty safe and ever hopeful about this life that I get to carve out, be it as a single woman or as a married woman. I can roll and roll and roll; hogging all the covers knowing in this moment I am OK! Bring on night number 2--late night movies, stupid TV shows and lots of magazines spread out...hey it's a king sized bed, I GOT LOT'S OF ROOM!