J is on spring break this week and so I have taken a few days off work. The book I’ve been reading, the one about midlife and miracles, is challenging me to imagine a different kind of life. What if we sold our $300,000 house and downsized to 1200 square feet? My parents raised four kids in 1100. What if we lived off R’s salary? No more morning grind. No more yelling at my kids to hurry up and get the car, hastening their childhoods, squelching their wonder. What if I lived in a plain neighborhood in a cement-colored brick house with circa 90s teal green trim? What if I didn’t belong to any professional organizations and spent my days making macaroni and cheese and lime jello lunches? What if I went to Bible study every Tuesday and spent long summers not wondering what the heck j was doing at 2 p.m. and who was taking care of her and the biggest question: “Is she happy and safe?” What if my children frolicked in the tub every night? What if I had time for lemonades stands and didn’t count my sick leave in quarter time?
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