It was like waiting for a fix. That last moment when the children were buckled up, the car door was closed, and I was waving goodbye from the porch. I could almost hear the shriek of glee in my brain at the thought of being free for a few hours in my own house where I’d been captive for the Thanksgiving holiday with a sick child. Post traumatic stress was threatening to move in again like it did when she was little and sick during the snowstorm. And I wanted no part of that feeling of disengagement and numbness again.
All I want for my birthday and Christmas and Mother’s Day is time to myself. Time to write and catch up on email reading and play in my craft room. One day I may even like to watch a movie but it always feels wonderful to sit down and write. To schedule and sketch and think and hope. The luxury of all this was lost on my single self. Not now. Not ever again.
I am savoring the rush and jangle of the heat vents, the puddles of sunshine in the house, that it’s 9:13 am and I’m still in my pajamas and there’s no one here that needs anything from me but me. And she’s getting her requests because she’s the most important person here today. At least for another hour before I have to go drink wine with my girlfriends. Woohoo!!!
Hope you got you some you time too!!!
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And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.
