Greg is heading up to Phoenix for a night of guy stuff with his brother, and Jack is in the care of my uber awesome in-laws. We agreed that we all need time to get our own respective freaks on. Something I've needed for a long time. About two years or so long. Or so I thought.
I have plans tonight, I keep reminding myself, because if I don't remind myself the crushing feeling of being alone in this apartment will bring me down. Have I become co-dependent on my family?
I used to be independent to a fault. Always ready to fly off on my own. Take the bus downtown and walk around aimlessly, i-pod to my ears, carelessness to my heart. I hated answering to anyone (and in fact avoided a cell phone for years because of this). I reveled in anonymity. I slept in and ate dinner when I wanted. I shopped by myself and watched movies alone. I loved it all. Fast-forward (very fast) and now I've grown accustomed to always being surrounded by people, by chores, by responsibility, life, motherhood and spousehood. I've catered to so many needs for so long that I've forgotten what it's like to have my own. It's strange, sad and true.
I am not a nomad
I am not a rocket man
I was born a housecat
By the sleight of my mother's hand
Today I'll answer again to nobody but myself. I'll watch movies and eat dinner without being interrupted or pulled at. I'll move at my pace and invent my own time. If only I can stop counting down the hours until little hands and wedding rings come knocking on my door.
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