Monday, January 27, 2014

I used to have time.

I used to have time.  Time to sit.  Time to sleep in.  Time to think about myself, my future, my life.  I no longer have time, every moment busy.  Unwashed hair, 3x reheated coffee, muffin top mama kicking it in her minivan.  Daydreams of travel, higher education, and romance have been replaced with nothing simpler then the wish to go grocery shopping alone.  Young single women look at me in fear, a glimpse into a possible future filled with washing diapers, runny noses, and peeing while holding a baby.  I gaze at them in their skinny jeans.  Freshly washed hair, $5 coffee drink.  The beautiful, yoga mat toting, craft beer drinking, socially redundant people.  Time to think, time to act, time to be, time to pause.  I take time, squirreling it away during naps, trips to the YMCA, and after bed.  Coming to the same place, landing on the same conclusion.  Allotment, the same minutes in every day.  Choosing to use them how we please.  Interests, hobbies, a career, a loved one.  Time is no longer mine, it was a gift gladly given.  I may not have time, but this kick-ass family is mine.  Minutes wrapped in an entirely precious, frustrating, loving, surprising, wonderful, time consuming existence, with no regrets.

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