Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect by Sarah Catherine Knights

even now, when I smell pine, I’m straight back there with ants the size of bluebottles, dark pathways leading to the dunes and the distant sounds of the beach, beckoning us on the breeze.  We had a tiny one-man tent which we squeezed into every night – the heat was almost unbearable – but we still lay entwined all night, ridiculously in love with each other, unable to be apart.
    We ate French bread and cheese, drank cheap, warm, red wine and licked a hundred cooling lollies on endless beaches.  We meandered along that coast from Montpellier to Sète to Angelès-sur-mer, loving each other on different campsites, on different beaches.
    That’s how I remember it.  Do you ever think of it now?
    *
    Our anniversary passes with no acknowledgement from David.  Of course, there wouldn’t be, would there?  He would hardly send me a card … what did I expect? 
    To my Darling wife of twenty-nine years, whom I’ve left for a younger, sexier version.  With all my love, David.  
    It wasn’t going to happen, was it?
    The only communication I had, was a text from Holly:
    Hi Mum – This day must be awful for you.  Thinking of you, as always.  Can’t wait to see you on Saturday.  I’ve heard from Jed.  Wha-hoo!  Love you, Holly xxx
    She’s so good, Holly – so thoughtful.  I wonder if Adam has even registered … I get my mobile phone and click on the Facebook icon.  I haven’t heard from him at all, but I wasn’t expecting to, was I?  We’d said Facebook was enough (I’m beginning to regret this now.)  I scroll quickly down my timeline … a picture.  There he is, with Jake, both with wet hair, the Pacific behind them, with the comment: First surf.  Shit, they’re bigger than Newquay!  Legs still in tact – no sharks.
    I study his face – already he looks tanned and healthy … and I’m happy for him.  He knows the shark reference is going to wind me up – he probably did it for that exact reason, so I don’t rise.  I simply write: Amazing – you look so brown!
    I think this is non-committal and can’t be regarded as embarrassing.  Surely?  I wish I could write more and then realise I could send him a private message; no one else need see what I say and he can private message me back.  Why hadn’t I realised that before?  He might be prepared to write short messages here, even if emails are too much.  I press Message:
    Hi Adam – it’s great to see your photos here.  You look as if you’re having an amazing time.  Where are you staying?  Do post some more photos, so I can imagine where you are.  Are Jake’s relatives nice?
    Life here’s pretty much the same.  I’m going to stay with Holly in London next weekend, so that should be fun.  Gaz doesn’t know yet.  He’ll hate going to kennels.  I’m enjoying the holidays; trying to get fit (swimming) and went shopping in Bath – so, getting out there!  Haven’t seen Dad but if I do, will tell him your news.
    I’d love to hear from you if you can.  Love the ‘legs in tact’ comment.  Joking aside, keep safe, Love you loads.  Mum xxx
    I read it through and hope I haven’t been like a pushy mother.  I haven’t mentioned our anniversary – it hardly seems relevant any more. 
    I hover my finger over the Send button – and then press it.  If he doesn’t want to reply, he doesn’t have to, does he?
    *
    I walk Gaz everyday; I’m quite boring with my routine, I go one way in the morning and another in the afternoon.  He doesn’t care, though, the smells are always different and the possibilities for finding balls in the undergrowth, are boundless.  It means I don’t have to think, I can just simply walk and let my mind shut down, something that I want to do a lot, these days.  The weather is lovely and I become a sentient being – a bit like Gaz, smelling the air, breathing in the oxygen of summer.
    I’ve nearly finished my walk, I’m on the homeward stretch.  Gaz has chased hundreds of imaginary rabbits,