I am back from my little escapade. Can you guess where it took me? Yes, indeed, I went to Prague but that’s not the whole story. When I took to my heals the morning after Easter Sunday I was looking forward to getting some time to myself with nothing but two paperbacks to keep me company.
But alas, motherhood is not shaken off as easily as that. In a way it is latched onto one’s soul like velcro and turns any act of self indulgence into a sordid back alley affair.
So when I got into the car to go to the airport, the grip on my bag was almost as tight as the cheerful smile I managed to dig out of the muddy trenches of my heart. Three little faces betraying nothing but utter misery were glued to the window.
Well done, Anna, I thought, at least you have made sure that this one childhood memory will make it into their bestselling memoir. And quite deservedly so, one may add.
But off I went anyway, heart palpitations, sweaty palms, deep remorse and all. Off into the skies and onto a wintery dream a thousand miles away.
There is nothing that will put an end to sappy feelings as swiftly as a Czech masseuse. After four days spent in their unrelenting care I was ready to forgive myself.
What came next was the realization that life can be good on the other side of blazing purgatory. And somewhere there, between the playful facades and shady colonnades of that dignified metropolis, I realized that it was okay to be perfectly content by myself.
In fact, it is quite a marvelous spot on the mental map. And it’s worth visiting especially when it lasts longer than a bubble bath.
2 comments:
Congradulations, you deserved it.
What bliss.
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