By the end of today, I will have more space in my cupboard.
I will also have more space in my bed, at the dinner table, in my life...
Okay, that's not completely true. He never cared much for sitting at the table.
He's taken out some suitcases, dusted them off and now, it seems, has started packing.
I hear coat hangers. I hope he's not taking them all - I don't have that many.
Every time he comes back up the stairs to get more of his stuff, I say a silent prayer,
Please don't speak to me, please don't speak to me, please don't speak to me...
Knowing what needs to be done, knowing what has to be done, doesn't make any of it any easier at all.
Eventually it will all be okay.
It really will.