A wondrous piece of writing from a lady I am very proud to call a friend.
By Rashida Murphy
Even for a serial insomniac it was a particularly sleepless night. Did I know tall buildings were falling on the other side of the world? Was it tribal connectedness? Or simply the end of 20-year-old marriage? Whatever, I had cried and kept awake all night. But quietly, because a freshly abandoned teenage daughter slept fitfully beside me and if she saw me cry she would think I was miserable. And that wasn’t true. All I had done was ask her father to leave. I had told her everything was going to be alright in a clear strong voice when she wept in my arms. Well past midnight I had crawled into bed with her, snuggling up to her as if she was a child again.
Early the next morning, my soon-to-be-ex-sister-in-law phoned from London.
‘Isn’t this just awful? I don’t know what’s going on anymore,’ she said…
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