Wife's life of a free

It was the most peaceful and radiant September since I got married.

Because I was alone. No cooking, no cleaning, no laundry. In the mornings, instead of packing a lunchbox, I took a walk. In the evenings, I wandered wherever my feet took me.

Why did someone like me—who loves being alone—get married in the first place? Was it to get a green card? To ease my aging parents’ worries? Because carrying life alone felt too heavy? Because I was tired of looking for a partner?

Even if I hadn’t married, I think I’d be doing just fine somewhere, adjusting to life as usual. My father used to tell me I didn’t have to get married. He even said that having no children might be the best life, and told me to live freely like a bird. But the sense of responsibility to carry my own life became heavier after I married a struggling artist and had children. So maybe the real reason I married was simply because I didn’t want to search for man anymore.

In my dreams, I often appear as a single woman—lonely but free wondering, “Did I get married once? Why am I alone?”

But in real life, I’m a tired married woman, always trying to keep my difficult husband happy.

During these quiet days, I woke up and slept whenever I wanted.

I didn’t go grocery shopping. I just emptied out the fridge and ate whatever was there. I only did things for me. I didn’t have to read my husband’s mood. I didn’t have to suggest doing something together and get rejected. It felt like I was standing alone on a stage, performing pantomime in a sunbeam breaking through a dark forest, whispering to myself, “So nice. I love this.”

The kids are grown and earning their own living. My husband is fully focused on his final creative push. I want to do the same—but when it’s mealtime, I have to cook. When he leaves a mess, I have to clean it up.

I start working, then stop and return. Over and over. I’m tired of it.

Still, in the end, this idea—living like a “free woman” for a while—turned out to be perfect for both of us. I get my space, and he gets to focus on his work.

Ha ha ha—

If I pack him 3 meals, he stays at the studio 1 night. If I pack 5, he stays 2 nights. If I prepare 7 meals, he comes home after 3 days. Then he calls in his soft, gentle voice,

“Mrs. Lee, I’m out of food. Can I come home now?”

"Are you hungry? You suffered from a hot day in mid - September. So when I’m alive do it well. If you wish, come home soon."