My father used to tell me that everything is resolved by walking. He was right. A daily walk became my therapy, and I haven’t stopped yet
One sweltering evening in 2020 during the first lockdown, as we sat drinking wine in the shed at the end of the garden, my husband and I came to the surprise decision to finish our 17-year relationship. “It’s the end of the line, isn’t it?” I ventured. “I know,” he replied, looking down at his glass. “Every day I think about it.” The unspoken had finally been said.
I took a breath. Unexpectedly, there was a wave of relief as recent frustrations dissolved. We toasted our newfound honesty, and chatted into the early hours, celebrating how civilised we were. But the next morning, reality hit: it felt strange sipping a takeaway coffee together on a sunny bench, and yet not reneging on what had been agreed. Admittedly I was also grieving, after the recent death of my father and then our beloved jack russell in quick succession. Was I doing the right thing? Was it too much to start again in my mid-40s? And all against the backdrop of Covid. The airless heat wasn’t helping.
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