Dirty Little Secret #40

I am often cranky.

Cranky without reason. Cranky without regard to your age or station in life.

Cranky so that my bones ache and my head hurts.

In the late afternoon it creeps up on me and seizes my heart, shrinking it three sizes. I furrow my brow. I scold little girls. I curse the gods for bestowing upon me the responsibility of cooking dinner. I bang pots. And pans. I long to be alone.

Its been five years since I worked outside the home. There hasn't been a moment that I've missed the experience; I never struggled with assuming the identity of a stay-at-home, and then a work-at-home mom. But it has lately occurred to me that this witching hour comes at the time that used to be during my drive home. When I would be alone.

It's the only thing that I miss.