My Love Letter

  Oh, fickle time. You used to be around constantly. I had so much of you, I took you for granted! You were always there, lulling me back to sleep for another hour, enjoying a hot meal with me, pouring some bubbles into my soothing mid-day bath. If ever I felt rushed, I'd just remind myself that I had you. But, like so many other things, once I had children, you were gone. I guess you don't like kids, because you cut off our friendship the very second my first baby was born. Don't you realize what you did? I can barely scrape by without you! Look at me, I'm falling apart! I try to go to the store, you know the organic, fancy one we used to go to? We'd peruse the aisles, sampling, grazing, meandering about. I tried to go, but without you it just wasn't the same. The kids opened the bulk food spouts and released wheat berries and spelt flour into the wild. The sample lady went on break just as the children spotted the samples, and they wouldn't move without crying until the she came back. I couldn't remember what I even went there for, and the whole time I kept screaming about how I didn't have you; "I don't have time!" It was heartbreaking.
   Not convinced that I need you? Just look at my face! There are bags under these eyes that only you can take away. Creases on my forehead from the toll of your loss. Oh, I've spent so much money trying to replace you, to fix the damage you left. Nightly visits to Avon, Mary Kay, and even exotic Olay, claiming, "Time Repair" and "Reverse the effects of time". Just like any other rebound, they just don't do it. They're not you. Money can't buy you!
   I should've known you were trouble by the way you behaved in college. I mean, one minute you were all over me, the next you were completely gone! I'd have to huddle over a computer in a dark room, near tears, trying desperately to complete the paper you left me with. My mother warned me you'd leave. "Once you have children, time will go out the window, you'll never have it again". But I thought I was different, that you would treat me different than all the others. Why wouldn't you? My scheduling and multi-tasking capabilities were phenomenal, isn't that why I had so much of your attention in the first place? Surely we could rise above the rest, after all, I had pinned dozens of articles on children and organization off Pinterest. You didn't care. After that first contraction, you were gone.
   Is it the way I've let myself go? If you came back, I'd fix myself right back up. I swear! I'd paint my nails, do my hair, put on some gorgeous makeup. Oh, I'd wear yoga pants for their fully intended purpose and not just because they're so soft and go with all my t-shirts. I'd exfoliate, deep-condition, microdermabrase, high-light, low-light, lighten up, and even (dare I dream?) wax my eyebrows. I'd make those massive-salads-in-a-teeny-mason-jar that you saw on Pinterest and like so much instead of trying to give you microwaved dino chicken nuggets. We'd only shop in those delicate, sweet-smelling boutiques with the uppity ladies that glare at children that I haven't been in since you left. I just need you!
   You know what? Fine. I get it, you're never coming back, and who's to say I would take you back? I mean, if having you back means that my children are out of the house, well I just don't think I can do that. I may not have you, but I do have two small tornados that give me sticky kisses and have no concept of your existence. In fact, maybe if I stop telling them about how I don't have you I can start to heal. Patience has been knocking on my door for awhile now, maybe I should answer and try to move on. So goodbye, time, you were just an illusion in the first place.