Why are you sitting in the car?

My little son is snoozing

And I know when I leave this car, when I open the door to our home, having just finished my hours of paid work, the work begins

I am already aware of the three tasks to be completed because they have been on my mental list from yesterday

When I wake my young son to take him inside he will immediately look to me to meet every single one of his needs

He needs juice, his meal, the toilet, undressing, pjjamas, a story, a cuddle, a touch, a conversation, a bath, cleaned teeth, combed hair, a playmate

When I've finished the list I will have already mentally added five more things for later, and quietly lament over the big tasks that I can't quite seem to start

The stairs need painting

I need to reply to messages, to hold onto threads of precious friendships that span decades and countries and a multitude of life events

Through childhood, adolescence and that quick as a blink time of early adulthood before we were wives, mothers, responsible for others

I haven't even thought about my partner yet and feel guilty that he is third, fourth, fifth in line

He probably feels neglected

I don't look my best right now

We haven't had any quality time together for a while

Must remember to add that to the list

I worked all week, I need to assuage the guilt of outsourced care for my little son with a weekend to remember

These few minutes sitting in the car. Cocooned.

I let myself soak in the solitude and silence

Before my mind gets ahead of me

Before I'm lost in the bathtime, the bedtime, the teatime, the playtime, the tidy up time, the storytime

I will have this time. Sitting in the car.