The Queen

The     Queen. 

  I live in a small village.   When I was little, I wished and wished that I could be a princess.  I wished on every star, I threw pennies in wells.  I even resorted to holding my feet up when we crossed a bridge in our wagon.  I just knew if I was a princess that my life would be perfect.  Perfectly magical. 

    But some times what you wish for and get, isn’t always what you really want.

    When I was 16, I caught the eye of a traveling king.  I was out in the garden pulling weeds.  Surrounded by flowers of every color, anyone would have looked fetching.  The king was quite taken with me, and I , looking up at him, only saw a handsome and dashing young man on a powerful warhorse.  He wasn’t as young as I thought, but even my 16 to his 30 could not dissuade us, me to his looks and power, and him my beauty and youth.

   We were wed with much fanfare.  No one anywhere had a more romantic wedding, no groom more handsome, no bride more radiant.  And my longed for dream had more than come true, I wasn’t a princess, I was the Queen!

Then comes reality.  The honeymoon over and back to real life, I realize 2 things.  First, he may be a king, but Prince Charming he aint.  And 2nd, and this is a biggie, I’m not the only Queen.  His mother is the dowager Queen, and no one loved his Mama like he did, and for her, he was her Snoogy, Wooby, Shoopie Love, and I, especially when he was not around, to her I was Satin the bitch.  It took me years to realize I had married the anti-christ, but only days to realize she hated me. 

    Fast forward 25 years, I am a mature 41 and he is a ridiculous , mid –life 55. 

   Living in a castle sucks.  Its drafty and damp. Getting a leak in a small house is easy, you just climb up on the roof and fix it.  In a castle, there has to be a petition put before the King, then a general bid from all the Thatchers, a winning bid and then finally, after a gazillion delays, permits, and inspections it might actually get fixed.

   As I said before, the castle is drafty and damp.  And there is no privacy!  Every time I step out of my chambers there is either some blow-hard toady waiting to try to get me to influence the King, or one of those damn ladies in waiting..  Yeah, waiting to catch my husbands eye, or watching and waiting to see if I do something so they can run to the dowager Queen and tell tales. 

   I know.  Its amazing, but yes, that old battle ax is still alive.  Love can die, but you cant kill mean.  I know time mellows some things; cheese, wine, but not my mother in law.  And with certain people of a certain age, she has somehow decided to just say what ever is on her mind.  My Grandma did that too but her slightly naughty comments were never directed at anyone she knew, and never loud enough to be overheard.

I get to hear loudly and clearly, “your legs are too skinny, your ass is too big, your looks sure are fading, I wish my wonderful son had married  that Snow White, now she was a looker!” 

   Whatever, I think to myself while smiling serenely, queen like.  I realized our childhood dreams of being famous, or royal, are just our desire to grow up and feel special.  But, the only one that can make us truly feel special , is us.

   I’m  sticking around this drafty, leaky dream come true.

A Queen doesn’t just ‘leave’.  I’m not going to give my mother in law the satisfaction of saying “Off With Her Head!!”

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