Friday night was full of wild abandon as I filled the washer with clothes clearly marked hand wash. I threw out all of the half-open products in the refrigerator that someone wanted to save, but would never return to enjoy. Out went restaurant style salsa, bean dip, a half-eaten pizza and what may have once been an icee.
I tossed out clothing that had not been worn in years and would never be worn again. I emptied drawers and filled trash cans and danced about the house like a woman on a mission.
Saturday morning began with a cup of coffee and mile high whip cream sculptures floating on top. I ate them with a spoon and without, feeling confident in my suddenly found barista skills. Earth, Wind and Fire played at full volume in my kitchen as I danced around, throwing out disco moves not seen since that Kappa Sigma party in 1982. I Googled "How to Regrout a Tub" and stripped the grout from the wall like a card-carrying journeyman. I planted flowers, pulled weeds and paid bills, all to the 120 beats per minute of "Let's Groove" that set the tempo for getting things done.
At the end of the wild day of "me" time, I collapsed into a tub of hot water to relax, not the one that no longer has any grout. Later I sat on the edge of my bed, in my PJs, looking about the empty bedroom and I remembered the time the kids would fly in and spring upon the bed in wild acrobatic moves. We would laugh and scream and giggle and covers would go everywhere. I saw the baby books on a shelf that we once read together, the one about the kitten with red shoes and the other about babies like mine who are soft and warm and cuddly. I miss those days. But a stronger and bigger emotion is the happiness that fills me when I think about those times gone by. What a wonderful time it has been giving my children all my "me" time that I could. It has been the greatest joy of my life.
