When I was a young mother
I thought how handy it would be
To split myself up into
Resourceful multiple me(s).
There’d be a me for my daughter
And a me for my son
And I certainly would not forget
The me for my hon.
A me for all the cooking and cleaning
A sort of domestic queen,
And a me to run to my part-time job
Or any job in between.
There’d be a me for my family,
The ones I grew up with
And a me to go out with my friends
To yak, and chat, and dish.
But when I lay my head down at night
The me(s) would all unite
And discuss the things we did that day,
What went wrong and what went right.
In the morning we’d divide again
And start the day anew
Spend our time and attention
On you and you and you.
And then of course the me for me
Because that’s important too.
As I have needs, desires, and wants
And things I’d like to do.
So when all the me(s) have done their job
And everyone is satisfied.
The me for me comes out to play
The I won’t be denied.
I sat at the end of the table watching our extended family as they laughed and dined. This year, Peter and I had our annual get-together catered so we could visit without the worry of food preparation and clean-up.
My stomach twisted with excitement. The grin on Peter’s face was as large as my own. I looked down at the envelopes beside me. I could hardly wait for the meal to end.
“Could we please have your attention,” Peter finally announced.
The laughing and talking quieted and all eyes were upon us. I smiled nervously. “I have something for everyone,” I said and passed out the envelopes. “Open them when I tell you.” I sat back down beside my husband. “Okay,” I announced. The silence was cut by the sound of tearing envelopes followed by cries of joy.
We had won the lottery and now, so too did our family.