Run, Mama, Run

Today you wore the baby sling for the first time in the five years that we've been holding babies together. Loosening the hip strap, pulling down on the shoulder straps, working it so that baby Z could rest his head over your heart. Lunges next and ssshhing this crying baby as you wave me out the door so that I can get in one last run before you leave on your long, long business trip.
I open the door leaving you drowning in tears and high pitched screams that stretch every last nerve. Pop in my ear buds and slip away for 30 minutes, just 30 minutes when I am a runner, not a mama or a teacher or a line cook or a sweaty, milky production line. Just music and sun and the pounding of pavement under foot.