Happiness

by the poet mom

My husband is having a boys’ weekend

I’ve never had a girls’ weekend.

I probably should.

It’s only fair.

But when I think of leaving, even for a night, I experience a vague sense of panic.

Is that guilt?

Uncertainty?

Fear?

No.  None of those.

The excuses I make for not leaving emanate from contentment.

I am happy in my life, in my skin.

This is where I belong and I feel no need to escape.

Don’t misunderstand.

Life is not all rainbows and unicorns.

There is pain and frustration and doubt.

Usually all three, daily.

However, I enjoy a peaceful familiarity

That I can nestle in amongst the love of my family

Or turn to the compassionate embrace of friends

Or pen a modest poem.

Gone are the youthfully awkward days of my 20’s

And the driven, control-freakish 30’s.

40 ushered in a new, calmer era

Where I can love a simple life, warts and all.

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