I think it’s because I can’t have babies.
I spent this first day of my thirty-fourth year buying yarn and plotting vegetables. Making scarves and researching lettuce. I realized today that I’ve never really grown anything before. I don’t know how to do it. I’m nervous about my lettuce.
Maybe it’s the first step to babies?
It might be that I’m unemployed, or infertile or that the world seems to be shifting every day but I don’t know if there has ever been a spring so anticipated before. Or one where I have felt so maternal. I want to grow things, bake pies, knit socks . . .
I still don’t want to clean house though.