Going, Going

She packed her bags.  For some odd reason he had fallen asleep watching TV in the sunroom, and right now she was grateful for that.  She stood there with the dim light from the bathroom illuminating their bedroom. She looked around and realized she had no idea what to take with her. She stood frozen for what seemed like an hour before opening her closet and dresser drawers, randomly selecting items that she supposed might comfort her later.

When she finished there were two suitcases; one packed so tightly to the gills that she had to sit on it to zip it all around.  She heard a noise and thought it might be the girls.  It was way too early for them to be waking, but she stopped and listened.  She realized it was just the pool filter that had clicked on.  She looked out the window at the clear water in her little lake.  It was barely light enough for her to see her favorite chair float across that space that had become her place of solitude.  She turned away, shaking her head to clear the disappointment.

She hauled the bags downstairs one at a time and left them by the door.  She went to the garage and pulled the can from the shelf.  She pulled the banded lump of cash from inside, slowly unraveling and counting the bills.  She felt herself begin to sweat.  She put the money in the pocket of her jeans and replaced the can.  On the way inside she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle.  In her head she heard him say, "Corona isn't beer. How can you drink that crap?"  She ran the glass slowly across the back of her neck, holding it there for a few seconds before placing it on the floor next to her bags.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  As she opened her eyes, tears welled in them.  She had been unhappy for so long.  She had lost herself quite a while ago and she was desperate to find her way back.  She was certain she’d never find what she wanted or needed here.

She thought about how she'd miss this place.  She would miss the brown leather couch where she curled up with the girls to watch movies.  She would miss her books, her salt & pepper shaker collection, her candles.  She would miss the warm, taupe colored walls and the funky chandelier and the photo of the Tuscany hillside that she bought from that photographer.  She snickered, realizing she actually wouldn't miss any of it.

She walked back upstairs, stopping to peer into the room with the door slightly ajar.  They were there, the two of them having decided to have a slumber party the night before.  It was her beautiful girls that had kept her here.  They were the only thing that she would miss.  She dreaded changing their lives; she didn't want to hurt them and she was sickened by the idea that they would be angry in the short term -- maybe longer -- maybe forever.  She stood there and offered a silent apology for what she was about to do.  It was brief, since she had no words to describe how she felt, and no way to explain.

She put the bags in her car.  She also took the briefcase that held her laptop and her purse with her cell phone and wallet.  As she came back in to grab the beer she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs.   It was dark as she heard her ask,

"Mama, is that you?"

"Yes, Baby," she answered.  It's early, go back to bed."

 "Where are you going?" 

"I'm just running out to Starbucks, Love Bug," she lied.  "Go back to sleep and I will come and snuggle with you when I get back."

"Ok, Mama," the little one answered happily.

She closed the front door and climbed into the car. With one hand on the wheel and the other on the key she paused.  From inside her she heard a voice whisper,

"Primum non nocere."  First, do no harm. 

My God, how she loved them.  She shut off the car.  Before she knew it she had climbed the stairs and crawled into bed between her girls. 

She fell back to sleep instantly.