Inspired by a Picture of a Woman Crying

 

I can’t believe he would do that to me. Haven’t I been with him for forty years? Anything he wanted I did. Even that nasty stuff that I didn’t like. Like cleaning the toilets. Two beautiful children. And the other one that just looks okay. Now that they’re out of the house, he doesn’t need me anymore? Fuck him! No. Wait. I already stopped doing that.

You know what? I’m still attractive. I’ll just find someone else. It’s his loss. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.

For that matter, I don’t need a man. I can take care of myself. I’ll be free. Free to do whatever I want.

But what do I want? I’ve been taking care of him and the kids for so long. What do I want? And who am I, if no longer a wife and mother? Well, I’m still a mother. Too bad all my children are gay. I won’t have any grandchildren. Maybe one of them will adopt.

What did I want to do when I was a child? An astronaut? A fireman? A fashion model? I think those options are out. Maybe a teacher, or a nurse. After all, I helped three kids get through school. Of course, none of them made it to college, but still.

And I took care of all their boo-boos!

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