*****Prelude*****
Vices. Everyone has them, right? Call them what you want. In the end, it's all the same. You justify and defend them. You talk out your reasoning, pleading on your behalf like a charged felon. Anything to get people to see it the way you do, to not think of you as a nasty aberration, or a dirty creature. I get it. I truly do, because I do the same.
Maybe it's smoking, drugs, or drinking. Maybe you like to bet the ponies or let the dice roll a little too long. Perhaps you like to spend more than you make on material items. Or possibly what makes you tick is porn- both written and seen.
I'm not here to judge, because everyone has something that they aren't proud of in their life. Who gets to say one is worse than the other?
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Maggie had a ritual before she opened her eyes each morning. She felt discombobulated for the rest of the day if she didn't go through each step. It had become her religion.
She took four big breaths feeling her chest rise and fall. On the last inhale she lifted her arms above her head, stretching from her fingertips to her toes, wrists and ankles rolling in circles. Feeling her spine release the sleepiness of the night, she exhaled and melted back to the mattress.
With the rhythm of her next breath, she set her daily intention. This was her favorite part. She would cultivate a word or saying that she could come back to when life got chaotic or stressful. Key thoughts, that just by saying them in her head, would remind her of this place of peace and stillness. Another deep breath to rivet the intention in place. Another breath to thank the universe for health, strength, success, and now she could meet the day.
The bedroom boasted a large east-facing window, enabling the rising sun to accentuate the gold flecks in her green eyes as they fluttered open. It was self-indulgent to cruise through the early morning at an unhurried tempo, but it was her last piece of serenity before the rush of mayhem, also known as her life, hit her.
With the stealth and silence of a cat, Maggie crossed the room and pulled on some running clothes. Running with the rising sun was a baptism of sorts, washing away the previous night's dreams and worries. Timing each footfall with her breathing was medicine for her mind, something that she desperately needed to stay grounded.
Anyone that knew Maggie, had the same opinion about her; She was a kind and happy person. She was married with kids and lived in a beautiful home. She had a successful career and made time for volunteering and community outreach programs. She was the mom playing kickball with the neighborhood kids and the woman helping the elderly man to the car at the grocery store.
And all of this was true. Maggie was a good individual. But there was also a classified side that stayed hemmed out of the way of day-to-day life. An identity that no family member or friend would ever entertain as even possible for Maggie to have a part in.
7:15 am and she was slipping out the front door, no one the wiser that she had left. By 7:20 am she was hitting her stride and already well over half a mile away from home. It was Wednesday and her goal was to be back home by 8:00 am.
Wednesday was vice day.
Often on her runs, Maggie thought about her current life's path. Of course, she knew exactly how this started. She was the one that initiated everything. Almost three years ago she had sent a Facebook message to an old college boyfriend. He wasn't just any guy though, he was her true love. The one that got away. The person she had thought of every single day for 15 years. She held a mountain of remorse for her decisions and had spent years wishing she had chosen differently. It wasn't like a typical mistake that could be shoved down, no, this one gnawed at her heart and conscience mercilessly.
When she had sent the message, her intent truly was to reach out and apologize for how she handled herself all those years ago. It was something that had consumed her soul with guilt. She wanted to clear the air, set things right, and accept the choice she had made. By doing this, she thought she would move on the best she could, understanding that she would always regret not choosing Ben.
Ben had replied to her message almost immediately. Opening his response made her heart mash against her ribs and her head whirl so unpleasantly she thought for sure she would faint. She could hear his voice saying the words he had typed, smooth and measured, just as she remembered.
Instead of telling her to go to hell and lose his contact, to Maggie's surprise, he asked for a phone call the next day. She knew she had shattered his heart in college, so the offer to talk stunned her. Not wanting to seem eager or intrusive, she sent him her number and said to call at his convenience.
The hours crawled by until the next afternoon. A million situations played out in her mind on how the conversation would go. She practiced staying calm and unemotional. She had to remain in control and not take flight like her senses were screaming at her to do.