This time last year, I was anxious to put as much pavement between me and the twisted scene I’d left at my house a few hours earlier. I had returned to pick up my dog and a few vital items, not intending to encounter my not-soon-enough-ex-husband and his brand new, fifteen-years-younger girlfriend.
Despite what Hollywood would have you believe, dramatic interludes between adults don’t often happen in real life. I didn’t cry or scream or boil a bunny. I took a breath, reached out my hand, and welcomed her to my house and to my bed, and then I left. She thanked me for being so kind.