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Making My Bed
I called the house and my sister answered.
Can I speak to Mrs. —-?
I tried to sound like a telephone operator
and, when my mother came on the line,
I said I wasn’t coming home.
I said I didn’t want her to worry.
I said I was all right.
But I didn’t tell her that I was nervous.
I hung up the phone before she could argue.
Am I really doing this—leaving my family forever?
At eighteen, I was all grown up
with plans to get married.
I wanted to make my own decisions.
I wanted to have my own home.
I wanted to raise a brood of children.
But I didn’t know that destiny had its own plans.
On the fifteenth day after leaving home,
I was married.
On the sixteenth day after leaving home,
I called my family.
My Dad answered the phone.
My Dad wasn’t at work.
My Dad was sobbing with relief in his voice.
But I really didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
My marriage lasted eighteen and a half years.
Was it all worth it—what I put everyone through?
I had a brood of children, four to be exact
and, toward the end, they begged me every day to leave him.
I hesitated to do the right thing.
I hesitated to make a new life for my children.
I hesitated to make my own decisions.
But on the seventeenth day, I created my own destiny.
(2011)
