Last Friday night
I walked out to my car, still parked at work at 945p
Bent in pain, heat escaping from my eye sockets
I sat in my car for five long minutes
To make sure I could drive home
Deciding I could, but craving a burger
As I drove towards the golden arches
Exhausted from a week of pushing my physical limits
My muddled brain grew angry
Why do I have to take care of myself when I am at my lowest?
Why do I feel alone in this misery, with two others residing in my home?
Why do I have to be motherless, at a time when I need mothering?
I ate in stony silence as the TV blared
Medicated my cough and fever
Took a hot shower, fell into bed with instant, blessed sleep
This weekend, I did little but care for myself
Lots of rest, lots of meds, lots of liquids
The laundry my only chore
Yesterday morning, I was handed a cup of chai tea, a gift for my throat
Expected a check at lunch, to be told it had been taken care of
My mother's earthly emissaries taking care of me, after all.