Two ways to end the day 

One

  • Drink a glass of water 
  • Floss and brush teeth
  • Remove eye makeup, wash face
  • Apply lavender oil to temples and wrists
  • Meditate for five to seven minutes 
  • Drift off to the soothing sound of rain (via white noise app)

Two

Pass out in full clothes and makeup watching season two of Orange is the New Black after drinking a bottle of wine and consuming a giant bowl of cocoa pebbles. 

Requiem for a Monday night

The lower level is dim. It is lit by one small lamp, a tin-star nightlight, and the overhead in the pantry because I was too lazy to turn it off when I grabbed the bag of tortilla chips.

Upstairs, the children are asleep.

I am alone, dunking these bougie multigrain chips into spicy hummus, thinking about the past. For someone so relieved to have escaped it, I certainly spend a lot of time looking backward.

The laundry is diligently humming away behind closed doors.

What’s important to remember is that I reminisce with relief. And pride. Because I was stuck in a spot, in a perpetual cycle for so long that I could easily still be whirring around in the same old place—lonely but not alone, frustrated, yearning, broke and hopeless. But I’m not. The lid came flying open, I climbed out, and I shut it for the last time.

I no longer measure my days in domestic tasks and women’s work.

Sometimes it seems silly to relish the present as much as I do. And yet I can’t help but pause and soak it in, sitting in peace on a quiet Monday night. Older, calmer, in a kitchen that smells of tomorrow morning’s coffee and Tide detergent.

Because I can pay for the nicer shit now.