She left the family home. Grabbed a few things, stormed out with a smile on her face, would be back to collect the rest tomorrow.
Husband and I were bereft. We felt that we had let her down.
I could be over bearing; I could be in her face. Thought I could help her. Wanted only the best for her. Wished her happiness. I saw pitfalls, and I tried to stop her caving in.
Choices she made, I balanced against, sheer bad luck, and became angry with her. Now, she had gone: I felt bad; I felt sad.
The birds chirped their morning song.
From the kitchen window, I watched flash car back up the drive. Mr Big I Am in the driving seat.
Bella appeared in the hall, had used her key to enter.
‘Any bin bags?’ she asked. Her suitcase of choice, often to come.
Upstairs Bella rammed her stuff into huge black bags. I took a bottle of champagne from the fridge.
Bulging black bags was shoved into flash car’s boot. She came to the kitchen; she came to say goodbye.
I held out the unopened champagne. I held back my tears.
Leaving: she wanted to. Shacking up with Mr Big I Am: she wanted to. I wished her luck.
I watched her bounce into the passenger seat, with an emptiness in my heart.
I missed her.