When This is Over

When this is over, I am taking a day off of work. I will wake up whenever it suits me, then take the boys to camp in whatever random clothing they happen to put on. I will put on my headphones, listen to Outlander, and walk a mile to Hangouts. I will order eggs Benedict with spinach instead of Canadian bacon and several, several mimosas. I will eat it all alone without anyone asking me to prepare more food or fetch them water.

Belly full, I will walk the mile back to my apartment and across the street to the nail salon. I will sit in the massage chair while someone makes my toe nails beautiful. I will bask in the hot stone massage. I will tip lavishly. I will wear my flip flops home and carry my shoes.

Once home, I will read or watch Netflix. I will not feel guilty for sending my children to camp because they have only seen like four other people for months. I will enjoy my time alone.

I will cook dinner before I pick them up, and it will be ready before they get home. They will both eat what I made without asking me to prepare other food they would prefer. No one will spill anything. 

The boys will quietly retire to their screens without fighting for the rest of the evening. I will drink some wine, color, and listen to my audio book. Everyone will fall asleep before nine o'clock.

May it be so.