Recently, Bradley took the girls out on a Saturday morning to give me a break. Usually, I would have hacked away at my list of chores, but I didn’t this time. I actually took a break and it was just what I need to do. I could feel myself relaxing as I slowly let go of the things on my to do list. One by one. And sank further into my bath.

 

I might not

I might not do anything that’s on my list.

I might not finish sewing my daughter’s pyjamas,
or make the other some winter corduroy pants.

I might not make muesli bars for my husband,
plan this week’s menu or
even contemplate my Sisyphus role in the laundry.

I might not call a friend who’s father has passed away,
might not write those emails I’ve been meaning to.

I might lie here
quietly, in the hot bath
listening to the cricketers outside
reading Mary Oliver poems
and not thinking about what I might not be doing
for anyone else.