The Mirage IS Real

As I enter the house I can already hear the little voices chatting upstairs. The clatter of dishes in the sink, and deep voice of B2 asking the boys about their day. E's chirping voice enthusiastically detailing the trials and tribulations of preschool life.

They haven't noticed me yet, and as I continue staring at them from my perch at the top of the stairs I wonder if this is a mirage. Is this family really mine?

Never in a million years did I EVER think I would be here. As the mom of two children, married to a wonderful {and hot} man, and working at a job that allows me to balance family and career.

At an early age, I had always wanted the white picket fence, with little children perfectly coiffed donning matching cardigans, and my husband and I hugging in the background.

That image was just a mirage. I'm a realist. Reality dictated the need for a career before family. I needed work my way up the corporate ladder.

Each rung up the ladder was a struggle for my livelihood, but I remained focused always looking toward the top. There were times when I faltered and my foot would slip. My corporate career path was always just out of my grasp. I kept climbing, fighting, crawling and sacrificing. The higher I climbed the more my heart hurt, but my head won out. “Keep climbing,” it said. “Your heart won’t pay the bills.”

I kept climbing. There were moments when the heartache grew too much to bear I needed to look somewhere else. Through the haze I’d catch a glimpse of the white picket fence and I’d hear the faint sounds of giggling children. Tears formed in my eyes and I mourned the loss of something I never had. But I couldn’t dwell on that I was alone in the desert and what I saw was a mirage.

The ladder was reality.

Over the years I fought my way up the ladder, painstakingly climbing each rung. My body and brain grew weary from the journey. My was heartache unbearable and in a moment of desperation I jumped off the ladder.

Once on solid ground, I saw the mirage in the distance. The blurry outlines of children playing and a handsome man smiling at me.
Blinking back tears, I finally hear his voice. “Hi, honey how was your day?” Wiping my tears I smile and immediately the blurry image comes into focus and I know for certain it is real.

This piece is a product of our Bigger Picture Blogs Writing Circles, where writers come together virtually to share a work and then offer encouragement while giving constructive criticism while applying benevolent pressure to others in the circle.