If I Run
I love my family, of course. I love them more than anything, more than I ever thought possible.
But I don't love the other stuff. In fact I despise a lot of it...the mess. The worry. The endless tedium. The constant and unpredictable call on my time/emotions/help. The way in which, no matter what I do, its rarely the right choice.
If I run, maybe I can fool myself into thinking what I'll get is more than what I lose.
If I run, I won't have to do the dishes or put away laundry.
If I run, I can read a newspaper from start to finish without interruption.
If I run, I could carelessly leave a hot cup of coffee on low surfaces.
If I run, my clothes would remain free of the marks from a small face using them as a Kleenex.
If I run, I could spend hours in a book shop, drinking coffee, reading magazines and books, not in the children's section.
If I run, I could sit at the computer without help.
If I run, I could carry a smaller purse, without nappies and wipes and snacks and toys (well, maybe I'd keep the snacks).
But if I run, I will have to walk across the street without a little hand in mine. If I run, I wouldn't be able to laugh that deep belly laugh that comes from watching Dada tickle Ellis. If i run, I will be without some of the key elements that make me (not the only things that make me, but keystones in the building of Kat).
So I'll stay, ignore the dishes and the laundry and eat a tray of blueberry muffins instead.
