Friday Fiction - Chance

From her bedroom window, she looks out -- scraggly trees dot the horizon.  She can see the land dip toward the path to the canyon.  The house is quiet.  There is a rustling in the eaves from the dove’s nest.  Yesterday they all climbed a ladder to look at the soft, beautifully pink eggs.  “The palest of pale pink” her daughter had said.  So delicate.  The parents circled close to the ladder, beating their wings in an effort to shoo away the peering eyes. 

She closes her eyes, leaning against the window frame, cherishing the moment – her, the children, her husband.  A moment that felt like a family again.  She had felt a part of something bigger than herself.  A fleeting feeling.  Gone soon after, as they each carried on with their day. 

So much time in her life dedicated to this family – to creating a home full of fun and life.  Not realizing that filling her time with all things family meant she was erasing herself.  She is so good a being a good friend, mom, wife, daughter – you name it.  But what about her? A friend told her recently she needed to figure out what she liked to do.  She has a chance to learn about herself.  What does she like? 

Ugh.  How ridiculous to be 42 and not have a sense of what she wants. 

Pushing away from the window, she bangs down the stairs, drains the cold remains of her coffee and bursts through the back door.  Must get out of here.  The drive to run, flee, is overwhelming at times.  Usually she has to shove it down.  But today, she has no plans, no one needs her.  She can do anything she wants.  So why does she feel so trapped? 

The last time she did something just for herself – something that made her happy – well that kind of blew up.  Maybe less drama, she smiled wryly, remembering.

The bookstore – she loves books – something to lose herself in. Patting her pocket, feeling the lump of her wallet and phone, she strides off with purpose toward the canyon trail, towards town.