Beautiful Rage

I thought I was building a life out of love, but I forgot what got me here.

I had music playing quietly in the kitchen as I prepared dinner, occasionally singing along, mostly smiling to myself at the laughter and conversation rolling in from the living room.

I inhaled deeply, taking in the aromas of roasted garlic and freshly sliced herbs. Spaghetti boiled in one pot, sauce with fresh vegetables and herbs simmered in another, and garlic and mushrooms sautéed in butter. In the oven were parmesan garlic-encrusted meatballs, and I was almost finished with the garlic bread that would go in next.

Everything was coming together perfectly and effortlessly.

My mind shot back to last winter, to one particular night when my kids begged me to make spaghetti.

They were so tired of McDonald’s.

Last winter, drive-thrus were the best I could do, and McDonald’s was the only place they could agree on, so we ate McDonald’s again and again and again.

I wanted so badly to do better, but I couldn’t even make a grocery list.

Meal planning was overwhelming.

Going to the grocery store was overwhelming.