White Picket Life

Now, we're watching the sun rising in the distance. It's nearing seven in the morning, judging by the position of the sun. It's still chilly out because the sun isn't high enough. I'm trying not to shake, but the joint is trembling in my hand. He'd offer me his jacket if he had worn one himself. Or maybe not. He knows I'm not a fan of chivalry. I've made it adamantly clear that I don't take hand outs. If I fuck up by not grabbing a jacket, that's my own problem. I always get myself out of my own problems. Have since I was a child.

I look at the neighborhood we're in. The park stands opposite of a row of identical houses. It's white picket fence suburbia. This neighborhood and the ones surrounding it are all beginning to wake up now. It's Friday morning, the last day of the week. There's an excitement in parents and children that the weekend is about to start. There's always more energy on Friday mornings than any other day of the week. Less feet-dragging. Right now, domestic wives are putting coffee on and greeting their husbands with loving pecks. Their 2.5 children are getting up and ready to go to school. Maybe there's a dog being let out into the yard. Maybe a cat is joining the family at the breakfast table. Maybe it's pancakes. Maybe just cereal and milk. If any of these mothers are part of the latest trends, there's a table filled with fruits and vegetables. Lunches are packed already in reusable containers and schoolbags are being put together. The wives will all offer another loving kiss as they send their husbands off into the world, telling them to have a nice day.

The world is waking up for people like that. People with normal lives.

As I'm sitting out here in the cold, I think about my own life in comparison. I wonder if life would have been easier had I taken that predestined route. If I had graduated high school, attended Columbia. If I had two parents and a stable home. I wonder if I could have been a happy housewife, with a couple of children. I don't know if I'd make a good parent. I didn't have any examples growing up. So, it'd be a coin toss. I guess it would depend on who I married. I know these happy suburban lives aren't all they're cracked up to be though. I've always known there's more than meets the eye behind closed doors like that. Usually, the wife is sleeping with her husbands poker buddy. Or, the children act out at school because no one pays attention to them at home. But, all of them put on fake smiles and pretend everything is fine. They invite other families over on the weekend for barbeques. They attend parties together, well-dressed and well-spoken. When it comes to that side of the lifestyle, I don't have to wonder about anything. I'm already living that.

White Picket Life White Picket Life Reviewed by Ali Larsen on November 28, 2019 Rating: 5

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