My dream came true in my kitchen this morning. As I stood with bed head and a basic nightgown. As I stood with a spatula in one hand as I prepared to make breakfast. Simple eggs and sausage; nothing special.
It was the most special thing ever.
My husband and two children were in the living room, slowly waking up to the new day. Talking. Laughing.
And I got to take care of them.
My family that I somehow managed to grow up and create was sitting right there in a perfectly normal, unworried, unrushed manner. Unconcerned. Happy.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted. All the in-between stuff of how I got from there to here floated away. All of the spilled tears and spewed anger. All of the choices and the chances. Whether it was right or wrong or feasible or impossible. Whether I was satisfied or fulfilled or overwhelmed or whatever other question is often thrown at me. None of it mattered in that moment.
Because all I could feel was how real it was.
And how much I just wanted it to stay like this always.
With everything perfectly normal, unconcerned.
Me, here, taking care of them. Any way I could.
And that’s when the new dream materialized.
To just simply be.
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