Escape

That is what it was.

Pure escapism. Where no one expects anything from you. Where each second of the day, you define what it is you do. What it is your feel.

Where no one cares that you didn't get out of bed until 1 p.m. Or that you're eating breakfast at a local cafe at 2 p.m. Or that technically, you don't even eat lunch.

Where a little pink on the tip of your nose and your cheekbones and your forehead and your shoulders is the best makeup a girl can wear.

Where strong hands massage little knots out of your neck and make you feel heavenly.

Where everything is about you. Well, that is, about me.

I needed the escape.

I was content in the escape.

*****

The nature of an escape, though, is that it is someplace you go to temporarily to get away from real life, though. The key term there is temporarily. There is no permanent escape.

So what the heck does a girl do then?

You love the hell out of your escape while you're in it.

Then you wave goodbye at it when the sun sets, and you go back to life.

*****

There was a welcome home poster from Son #1. The trees are starting to be fat with their new green leaves. The rhododendrons blossomed while I was away and now have big fat flowers in all shades of pink. Even the sun is trying to come through our rain today.

And I got a big warm hug when I woke up this morning.

*****

I miss my escape already.

But if you get a small escape now and then, life is pretty good the rest of the time . . .

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife