|Gay-Straight Alliance school bus (used under a CCL)|
I was thinking this afternoon... that the hardest part of my day, or the hardest of my days... lately... are the days I have to go to the bus stop. And see the fake smiles of the Other Mothers. I smile, very huge, and usually pretty genuine. I wave, very noticeably and I usually get a wave in return that looks like, "Please God I hope no one sees me waving back at her."
The bus stop is in my old neighborhood, where the ex still lives, where the kids live with him during the week. The Other Mothers are women I know well, who thought they knew me well, who pretend they don't see me when I run into them at the grocery store.
I see them.
How different things are now... they used to fall over themselves to talk to me. And that's not conceit. I promise. I didn't understand it then, like I don't understand it now.
The Other Mothers don't realize that we all gave birth the same way. Yet... I'm beginning to really learn, we are nothing alike.
It's fine. Pretend you don't see me. Because really, you don't. You never really did.