The Finish Line

For me much of motherhood has been about things unfinished.

When I had my daughter, I left my career in the lurch like some jilted lover that I had once been passionate about but suddenly broke up with in some lame way like over voice mail or via text message. So much unfinished business there. I was on the VP track, all high stress and intensity, something I cannot relate to now. Eventually I did start my own business, a thriving retail store, but sold it last year. The fact that it still exists without me feels like I left something undone, even though I know that logically it came to an end.

I never seem to finish a task around the house either. Whether it is the dishes, or filing, or a sentence, someone always interrupts me. I dread cleaning, not because I don't like doing it but because I can't seem to ever finish what I started. I'll clean a toilet, pull Little Guy off the chandelier, dust a room, make a drink for Girlie. It goes on and on like that until a half hour task takes three hours.

Here is the big one. In the last seven years I have never finished a meal without getting up around a hundred times. It makes me crazy. I usually start and finish my meals at the kitchen counter and I would probably look like a supermodel, except for all the beer and snacks after the kids are in bed.

So imagine my shock in feeling sad I am actually about to finish something. My spring writing workshop. It has been an amazing experience and one that is coming to a close in early May.

I guess in some ways it is more of a beginning than an end. I can take it again in the fall. I can start other classes. I can continue to write on my own.

Still, I can't believe it is almost finished.