I used to dote on my baby dolls. I cooked the finest plastic cuisines for anyone who would pretend to taste. I didn’t feel compelled to clean back then. And I was never Mama or Mrs., even then, I knew those names were not for me.
Somewhere through the years, maybe at my best friend’s parents’ kitchen table, or on the firm couch I spent exactly 50 minutes on a week, I realized I was not playing anymore. I cooked to survive and cleaned for medicinal purposes. The house ran well, but there was no playing.
So, for the third time, I let you back in. Together we play house, you cook daunting meals, I clean up after board games, and we dote on our friends' dogs. I know I’ll never be Mama, that neither of us is the marrying kind, and that I can survive going back to just running things, so for as long as we can, let's just keep playing house.