metaphorgirl

i want to go on date nights, live music and going to the theatre. living in the suburbs, driving an suv that takes my children to practice, the kind i can afford the payments for.

i wouldn’t be in line at the grocery store debating if i should put the bread or bananas back, instead i’d come home and toss my keys on the kitchen island and pour a glass of wine—because i could drink a single glass, instead of downing my sorrows in a bottle.

i’d have the gratitude of the man outside the local cafe who feels rich with a handful of change and a couple of cigarettes. instead, i glare with jealousy as i walk to the womens shelter.

i want to go to my parents house during holidays, sit down at the table and enjoy a meal together. admiring them, wishing to find a love like theirs because i was lucky enough to not understand the heartaches of divorce.

my children wouldn’t be pressing ‘1’ to accept their dad’s phone calls, wishing he was a better man. instead, they’d be begging me to tell him to stop tickling them—because he was home to tuck them into bed.

i’d have the instincts of a monarch butterfly who has ability to leave when the seasons no longer support them. instead, i stare in admiration wishing i’d have the same courage.

i want a life with no trauma, a life where the only stress is caused by me forgetting the cherry tomatoes for tomorrows salad. i want quiet and simplicity, not the survival and chaos that i am accustomed to.