The three older kids were playing Metroid with their dad. Baby Monkey Girl, who normally frowns on that "yucky game," was actually cheering them on. Feeling a need to escape the noise, I mean, excitement that filled the room, I slipped out the back door. Freedom embraced me as the door shut behind me.
The first thing I did was jump on the trampoline. With each leap up, I experienced that wonderful weightless sensation that usually clears my mind of everything but the pleasure of simply existing. This time was slightly different. What ran through my head in that instant was a TV character’s description of a near death experience. She claimed that she had popped out of the top of her head. For a moment, I could totally imagine being able to "pop" out of the top of my head. How amazing would that be? Free of earth's gravitational pull. Free of all that tethers us here. Free from burdens and responsibilities. Free from the little arms that reach up to me. Wait…no; I wasn’t ready to be THAT free yet.
I climbed down from the trampoline, grabbed a broom and swept the carport. How weird am I that I actually like sweeping the carport? Now, I’m not claiming that I’m such a good housekeeper that my carport is
I walked back into our home feeling rejuvenated. Then I saw her. Baby Monkey Girl ran toward me, her face winched in distress and her arms open wide. Her pitiful pout turned into a loud cry as she drew near. Scooping her up, I asked if she hurt herself. She shook her head and suddenly it hit me. She was upset simply because her world was out of order. My mini escape hadn't gone undetected. She had her daddy and her siblings, but that wasn't enough. :::sigh::: So much for freedom.
Later that evening, she fell asleep in my lap. The weight of her slumbering body burdened and filled me at the same time. I could have liberated myself of the heaviness by bringing her to her bed, but I held her close just a little while longer. You see…I wasn’t ready for freedom.