At home I ate a snack and watched Netflix on my computer until my husband arrived.
Then I walked up to him for a hug, fell into his arms, and cried.
Part of me hadn’t left the nursery, and it broke me, to be close and yet so far from parenthood.
At 33, I have learned to let that go, the faceless woman I’ve carried around in my mind for so long.
We talk about children sporadically, during commercial breaks of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” or between bites of food while we’re eating dinner.
Persons:
hadn’t, — we’re
Organizations:
Netflix