More than a month and a half of this! And not even a week has passed.
Just for the fun of it, I sometimes imagine myself picking up my things, putting my son in his trolley, and disappearing in the middle of the night, only to come back after it is all over. After my son is back to be my son, and my husband is back to be my husband, and my house is back to actually be mine.
Be patient, the wise said.. but I don't care what the world says. Patience has a limit, and I am already breaching it. Why should I be the one to be patient? I am patient enough not seeing my son the whole day, should I also give up on all my rights after this too? He is my son. I am his mother, only me.
Oh how I wish... for that middle of the night trip!
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