The barn is shut up. The children are tucked in. They're fighting sleep as usual, but I've "laid down the law" for the last time. They are at least quiet for now.
I have a second round of dishes waiting for me. There's schoolwork to correct, lessons to plan. I need to make a weekly meal plan and shopping list tonight (two sets of visitors this weekend.) And although I did laundry all day, I still have a load to put away, two to fold, one in the washer, and one in the dryer.
The hum from the dryer vent is sullying up the ambiance as I sit on the screen porch avoiding these, and the rest of the tasks that await me tonight. But I can afford to put them off a bit. My husband is just catching a flight about now in D.C., and won't be back until at least midnight.
So here I sit. It's a little too cold to be out without a coat, but I'm too lazy to get one. Besides, the chill is helping me to shake my sleepy sluggishness. And I did bring my mug of unsweetened tea.
A gentle rain is falling quietly, murmuring in the leaves, tapping on the gazebo. A mocking bird is brassily singing as the last light fades. The robins are chirping their lullabies. A frog is croaking at slow intervals, sounding like the creak of a reluctant door.
From some neighboring pond, the geese intermittently interrupt these calming noises with their honks, their perpetually teenaged voices cracking. Now and then a horse nickers a complaint. A cow moans in agreement, and gradually the animal noises diminish into darkness until I am left with only the patter of water.
For a short time, I can barely make out the tree line against the dark clouds. It's easier to see if I don't try to look directly at the dividing line between tree and sky. But then it is too dark even for that, and I sit in a pale bubble of laptop light, wrapped in chilly night.
A car passes with a distant whoosh. A mouse squeaks somewhere nearby as it rustles in the leaves. And for the first time all day I slow and feel as though I can properly breathe.
It is a sort of distorted marathon, this life I lead. While many of my peers try to reclaim their youth, defy their aging bodies, and regain some regard by training for and running actual long-distance races and completing triathalons, I plod along, unable to catch my breath. I'm not sure how they find the time to do what they do. After all, I'm wasting ten minutes to collect and type my thoughts, and it feels like stealing.
A part of me is jealous. It would be nice to "take care of myself" for a change. I'm sure there are those among my acquaintances who wonder why I don't. And that's okay. They can't know what I face.
Besides, I knew all the time where my choices would lead. And I keep heading the same direction despite that. There are moments when I'm not feeling so strong though. I watch my body show the toll of my commitment, and I momentarily falter. But so far I just swallow my pride and continue on.
Well, with those deep thoughts, my ten minutes is up. My nose is cold, and my cup of tea is nearly gone. It's time to get back to the grind.
Thanks for posting this. I have been having similar thoughts lately. Self-sacrifice is love. We give everything. Our children deserve nothing less. And, yet, it seems so much harder for me to feel what the world thinks about what I'm not "doing for myself."
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