Posted in Family, Writing


Sometimes I wish I could leave but I know that’s wrong. I don’t want to leave. It’s a fear he’ll leave and I’d rather avoid the pain, the fear. Most of the time I can ignore it but I don’t think I’m worthy of him. I married up, just like my Mom. What does that mean? “Married up?”

It’s strange to me the idea but I didn’t realize it until I saw this episode of “How I Met Your Mother.”

Now I’m home alone by myself and I’m just loving the lack of responsibility. Rather the only responsibility for myself. It’s simple right now. It’s easier. No conflict except they’ll be back in a few days.

I miss them already. I miss talking to my son. I miss seeing my husband while he watches tv but when he cooks. It’s great. He’s in his element, just like when I see him teach. He just radiates. It’s wonderful. He’s proud. I’m proud. I just want him happy with who he is, what he does and what he has now. Isn’t that important? Most important?

There are times where he questions my love for him, not very often but it has happened. It happened once while I was pregnant with our son and another, the night I fell to the bottom.

I love being alone and I love being with my family. Why does it seem so strange?



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