Running Away

I am running away to Denver today. I’ve been planning this for about a week now. I decided last weekend that I needed some art in my life, so I’m going to the art museum by myself with my writing notebook to just wander and be surrounded by art. Of course, it’s also a free day at the museum, so I’ll be accompanied by the better part of the city, but still, it should be lovely.

It’s been too long since I’ve allowed myself to seek out and be immersed in art. So, off I go. That’s why I’m writing so early this morning. Well that and I’m meeting up with H later today and he’s vowed to get me resoundly drunk, so I won’t have the opportunity to write and post later. But you’ll most assuredly be blessed with some kind of fuzzy half remembering of my escapades tomorrow.

Whenever I plan these little getaways, I always find myself worrying that my need to get out, away, elsewhere makes me a bad mother. Worrying that my need to do my own thing is more important than whether my family needs me at any given point in time. But like so much other guilt and many reasons for beating myself up, I think I need to put that down and walk away. We all have to allow ourselves getaways to feed the soul. For some it’s quiet time to read or gathering with friends. For my husband it’s time to play video games or indulge in some other kind of brain candy movie or surfing on the computer. Seeing as that I’m a wee bit more high maintenance than that, I choose all the above. Well, except the video games. Those are nice occasionally, but for me my getaways involve friends and alone time.

So as I sit here writing much earlier than usual (which explains the babbling and nonsensical rambling) feeling my adrenaline start to surge at the thought of the day ahead, I’m just going to allow myself to take this day. Because I deserve it, because I need it and because I want it. So, here I go, running away to Denver.

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