The night before,
my husband told me
he was meeting friends for dinner.
We had planned
to play a round at a par-3 course
the next morning.
But after driving
more than six hours that day,
I said,
“I think I’ll skip tomorrow.
I’m too tired.”
He smiled.
“Okay.”
The next morning,
I woke up feeling rested.
A Quiet Thought
A quiet thought appeared.
That was a good decision.
If I had forced myself to go,
I would have woken up early,
even though my body
wanted more sleep.
Besides,
my husband had come home late.
Even if he hadn’t
had much to drink,
he sometimes
stayed up much later
than planned.
He might have slept
through the morning.
We might not have
gone at all.
After all,
it wouldn’t have been
the first time.
Instead,
I was having
a peaceful Saturday morning.
The thought
made me smile.
I felt lighter.
It protected me.
Mid-point
Sometimes,
our minds create stories
to protect us.
Another Thought
Later that afternoon,
I brought my husband
an iced decaf Americano
and a red bean bun.
When I saw his face,
it looked swollen.
He smiled weakly.
“I’m exhausted.”
For a brief moment,
another thought appeared.
Maybe I should have said
we could still go.
If I hadn’t canceled,
maybe he wouldn’t have drunk so much.
The thought
felt heavy.
Years ago,
I probably would have
believed it.
A little guilt
would have followed.
Then,
I might have gone home
and started making
a pot of bone broth.
It was one of the ways
I used to turn
guilt into care.
Not because anyone
had asked for it.
But because,
without realizing it,
my mind had already turned
that thought
into responsibility.
Seeing Both Stories
This time,
I noticed something different.
The first story
had protected me.
The second story
tried to pull me back
into an old pattern.
Neither one
was a fact.
They were simply stories
my mind created
to make sense
of what it couldn’t know.
I smiled.
And for the first time,
I didn’t have to follow
either of them.
