ME TIME

Yes, she was a devoted daughter, loving wife and caring mother – but had Ruth lost herself along the way?

- Steve Cain

Ruth Dawson prided herself on being organised, focused, meticulous and precise in everything she did. Indeed, these traits had made her decision to branch out on her own so much easier to plan.

She sat at the kitchen table, poised and filled with inner calm, on the brink. Finally, there was nothing to stop her, no interruptions. No meals to be cooked, no confusing phone messages to be taken, remembered and passed on, no sports kits to be washed and ironed, no suits to be collected from the dry-cleaners. No more fitting in with everyone else’s plans at the expense of her own.

This was it. She was about to become a liberated woman at last. But it hadn’t been easy.

It’s funny, Ruth mused, it wasn’t until they’d shared that romantic weekend in Paris together that she realised she needed to make the change – if only to stop herself being completely consumed by her family’s demands and losing herself totally.

Three blissful days of strolling along avenues lined with boutiques, bistros and buskers, and two perfect nights spent sipping champagne under clear starlit skies was the epiphany that triggered the realisation that, somewhere along the way, she’d unwittingly sacrificed her dreams for drudgery. How had it taken her so long to notice she’d morphed into a person with an identity crisis and become merely a series of labels?

She recalled first becoming aware of it after her mother’s fall. Ruth was at the supermarket checkout, one day, when the cashier suddenly stopped scanning her groceries and stared at her.

‘Aren’t you Mrs Gordon’s daughter? I was very sorry to hear about her nasty accident. Such a lovely lady. How is she?’

Ruth smiled. ‘She’s recovering nicely, thanks for asking.’