Dear Momma,

I’ve been meaning to tell you that I know you like being by yourself, at least that is what you claim, but I am here to stay. So, trying to get me married off and becoming a card member carrier of diaper bags and babies will not happen. I love you too much to ever leave you. And, as much as you try to deny my wonderful company, I know you miss me when I jet off to work and leave you home for 10 hours to do nothing but watch civil court tv shows, chuckle with your sisters and brothers and take naps in your favorite chair. The way your eyes light up when I walk through the door and say, “Honey, I’m home!” lets me know that you can’t live without me and my smiling face. But, I understand your desire to see one of your kids get married and have a family. I am just not too sure you should look to me to fulfill that dream.

Momma, did I ever tell you what I witnessed during my teenage years? Nah, I probably didn’t. I was busy thinking I knew everything and being a little loose with my words like I was the adult and you were the child. Is it too late to apologize for my rebellious teenage years? Well, anyway, ere is what happened:

When I was about 17 years-old, I was riding the bus when a mother and son got on a few stops before my exit. The lady began eating a grilled chicken sandwich that smelled and looked yummy. After her second bite, the little boy, about 5 years-old, said, “Momma, I want some. I’m hungry.” Mom continued to chew, took another bite and then asked, “Didn’t you eat last night?”

Ha, ha, I thought until she never gave the little boy a piece of her sandwich. I remember looking at her with concern, looking at the little boy with sympathy and the bus driver, who made eye contact with me via the mirror, with disbelief. I was not only troubled by her words but her audacity to continue devouring her food in front of her hungry child.

The thing is, momma, I recalled the incident when I arrived home yesterday extremely drained. At that moment, I was so thankful that I was not a wife and mother. I became mighty afraid I would have looked at my husband and child and asked, “Didn’t you eat last night?” as they proclaimed their hunger and banged their silverware on the dining table while I changed into my pajamas and yelled “Good night!” from the bed, leaving my family to fend for themselves.

Since I am not a mother and wife, I can choose to rest, sleep and not have dinner when I come home after a long day. I typically choose to rest or sleep once I’ve made it home from work until my growling stomach interjects my necessitated down time a few hours later. And, sometimes, I still decide to remain in my comfy position and eat something the next day.

I would be a bad and selfish mommy and wife to choose rest and sleep over ensuring my family’s needs have been met, right? Lucky for me, wedding bells and baby showers are not upcoming celebrations that will alter my cozy life. I am so relieved that I don’t have family responsibilities. Most days I am utterly exhausted-waking up at 5 am, driving 20 miles to work while sitting bumper to bumper for 20 minutes out of my 50 minute commute, working 8-9 hours answering the same question, with the same response, for the same person multiple times throughout the day, damn near falling asleep at my desk (I seriously need to invest in a helmet), because I tossed and turned the night before and then driving home while sitting bumper to bumper again for 30 minutes and finally arriving home another 45-60 minutes later, because I pulled over a couple of times because my acid reflux was acting up so badly I wasn’t sure if it were a heart attack or truly my acid reflux (by the way, thanks, momma, for being there at the doctor’s appointment with me when I was assured it was in fact my acid reflux).

After all of that craziness, I can’t imagine coming home to a husband and child. I am too tired to think about food-eating it, preparing it or extending my travel time home by stopping for takeout-household chores, supervising and helping with homework, husband/wife and mommy/child bonding moments for the evening and probably a plethora of other things mommies and wives do that I am oblivious to. The thought of these responsibilities make me cringe and more pooped.

When I close the garage door, sluggishly walk to the front door, enter my key and hear it unlock, I want to do nothing more than immediately run to my pillow and blanket. And, fortunately, I can do just that. Many times I try to be a big girl and muster up some energy to stay awake or partake in an activity and usually fail. But, yesterday, when I elected to rest, which quickly turned into sleep, and not do anything productive, I was happy that my life did not include marriage and mommyhood. Momma, I just don’t have the energy to fulfill those roles, at least not now. Maybe never. I’m sorry.

Love Always,
Your Single and Childless Daughter

Eve Everett

Image Source: Cynthia Bailey