Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Sex in the park (not me)

SATURDAY, May 1, 2010 – A stroll through Beatrixpark at dusk. Elsa the dog leads the way and  opts for a path we usually pass by.  She’s curious and passes a row of shrubs and then a small open field where a couple are fucking shamelessly and with abandon.

She’s sitting on top of her boyfriend and panting, and as she comes she looks up and gives me a friendly nod.

Being together – whether it’s lying in the park or sitting on a bench… That evening I feel engulfed by sadness as I make up my queen-sized bed. I still sleep on the same side, at most appropriating a bit more of the sheet. The selflessness of a recovering widower. The pillow next to me serves as a backrest, when I want to read for a while. The other half is reserved for what might later come my way.

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