What About Me?

That night, my daughter stood in front of the mirror holding up two outfits.

“Mom, which one looks better?”

I glanced over and picked one for her right away. :-)

She giggled, nodded, and then asked, almost as an afterthought,

“What about you, Mom? What do you like?”

“Me?” I laughed. “Oh, I’m good with anything.”

For some reason, that question stuck with me all day. What do you like?

That night before bed, I sat down in front of the mirror and thought about it again.

I know my daughter’s favorite color. I know which player my son is obsessed with lately. I know exactly which coffee beans my husband likes best.

But me?...

I stared at the woman in the mirror for a long time... and I couldn’t come up with an answer.

She suddenly felt like a stranger.

The person in the mirror was obviously me, but I hadn’t asked her what she liked in a very long time.

I have a warm home, a husband I love, two wonderful kids, and the kind of steady, comfortable life a lot of people would envy.

Isn’t this exactly the life I dreamed of when I was young?

I’ve always been grateful for it. It’s just that over the years, whenever there was a choice to make, I naturally thought of them first.

When it came to what they needed, I rarely hesitated.

When it came to me, I always told myself... it’s fine, mine can wait.

A few days later, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work.

In line, an older woman with silver hair was holding a bouquet of flowers.

The cashier smiled and asked,

“Special occasion?”

She shook her head.

“No. They’re for me.”

For me...

I looked up at her.

On my way out of the checkout, I passed the flower stand and found myself stopping.

I picked up a bouquet.

$14.99.

My first thought was still: Never mind. That’s a few gallons of milk.

I put the flowers back and kept walking.

Then I stopped.

What about me?

I turned around and walked back to the flowers.

Looking at all those bouquets, I realized I didn’t even know which ones I liked.

I stood there for a while.

Finally, I picked up a small, simple bunch.

I looked at it and suddenly smiled.

“This one... I like this one.”

I put it in my cart.

No birthday.

No anniversary.

Nothing special to celebrate.

Just because... I liked it.

When I got home, I put the flowers in a vase and set them on the kitchen table.

My daughter walked by and paused.

“Pretty.”

I looked at the flowers.

“Mm-hmm.”

Then I smiled and said, “I think so too.”

In that moment, I realized I don’t have to love anyone less to love myself a little more.

I still love my husband, my kids, and this home we’ve built together.

But starting today, while I’m thinking about what they need, I want to remember to ask myself, too:

What about me?

Maybe sometimes I can pick out flowers I like, save a little time for myself, just because I want to.

No need to wait for a special day. No need to prove I’ve done enough first.

I’m worth it.

No reason needed.

For the Maylina in all of us.