Vocation

originally written in 2016

Vocation

Be a wife. Work a job you truly enjoy and help with the bills, while becoming a professional housekeeper and maybe even a connoisseur of good candles. Mature candles that smell of absinth and mahogany tobacco. Order expensive, imported bottles of wine and crack it open when we come home, maybe around the same time, if you had decided you two were eating at home. Him, sitting on the counter top, knowing it makes you mad, you, leaning against the stove with one leg popped up on the other, like your mother used to stand when she was cooking, like a flamingo. Laugh about your day and plan the next trip to different countries. Argue about which family to visit for the coming holidays and whether or not you thought your sisters new boyfriend could parallel her severely intellectual long, blonde-haired head. Fight. About when you make comments in public about private arguments, or why he couldn’t find time in the day to swing by my office to grab lunch together. Go into separate rooms. Sit in the bathtub