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?
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.
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.