My husband and I don’t agree on anything. I think he has a bit of Opposition Defiance. Even when he means yes, he says no. I’ve got used to it. It annoys him when I preface what I say with: ‘I know you’re going to disagree with me about whether those beef ribs you cooked tonight were good enough, but…’. Saying that confuses him big time, so I love doing that. Still, there’s so much love and affection, cuddles and long, languid kisses between us I wouldn’t want to leave him.

He told me last week I was the love of his life. That he doesn’t want me to die before him or he’ll die from losing me. This is weird, but I understand it. We fight quite well actually, but it’s taken nearly 30 years to comprehend each other’s ways.

This Tuesday, I have to put chemotherapy cream all over my face. Six different places where there are cluster-fucks of sunspots. I’m vain, even at 52. I never leave the house without good hair and make-up. Hell, I even dress up to go to work at school.

I don’t want to do the chemo cream and look like a scabby leper for the next 4 weeks. If I don’t go through with it I will have to have the sunspots cut out by a cosmetic surgeon, and I don’t like that option either. It is better than death by carcinoma though. I’ve witnessed that and it wasn’t pretty.

A friend owns, designed and managed the build of a massive health facility in a nearby city. There are doctors, physios, chiropractors, psychologists, specialists, radiographers and a pathology lab in the centre. The grand opening is on Friday.

When I said I wouldn’t be going my husband said I could wear a burka. I cried, said I’d be depressed and was going into hibernation, being house bound for 5 weeks.

He told me I’ll always been beautiful; that he married me for who I am and not what I looked like. I cried some more; he held me and told me I’d be alright; plus everything else I needed and longed to hear.

Yeah, we fight and disagree and fight again almost everyday about lint and food and the quilt being up or down as well as a gazillion other insignificant things, but our marriage is still pretty firm. I guess every couple is different.

Our flags aren’t so red anymore, they’ve faded to a quiet blush.

Coincidentally, his slow cooked sticky, saucy beef ribs were excellent. I told my husband this after leaving him in suspense for over an hour. If I’d said it straight out he would have disagreed with me, just for the sake of it.

I’m sorry you went through a horrid, painful, introspective divorce. I’m not sorry that the whole process made you a better writer, better woman, better thinker and far more aware and astute than you must have been before.

That’s a plus Tesia, a big plus. And I’m so glad you got your new beginning.