**Ready to Run Away with My Son and the Bare Essentials from This Village**
Ive already packed the essentials in my mindjust enough to leave my husband and his parents behind in this tiny village lost in the countryside. No, I wont dedicate my life to their goats, cows, and endless vegetable patches. They think that by marrying Oliver, I automatically signed up to be their free farmhand. But I disagree. This isnt the life I want, and I refuse to let my son grow up in this backwater, where the only entertainment is arguing over how many pints of milk Daisy the cow gave.
When I first arrived after the wedding, it didnt seem so bad. Oliver was attentive; his parents, Margaret and her husband, seemed kind. The village even had its charmgreen fields, fresh air, quiet. I thought I might adjust. But reality quickly showed its true face. A week after moving in, Margaret handed me a bucket and told me to milk the goats. Youre one of us now, Emilytime to pull your weight! she said with a smile that still makes me shudder. Me, a city girl whod never lifted anything heavier than a laptop, had to learn to milk before sunset. That was my first warning.
Oliver, it turned out, had no intention of defending me. Mums righteveryone works here, he said when I tried to protest. And so began my new routine: up at five, feeding animals, weeding the garden, cleaning the house, cooking for everyone. I felt more like a servant than a wife. If I dared ask for a day off, Margaret would roll her eyes and lecture me: In my day, women worked dawn till dusk and didnt complain! Oliver stayed silent, as if it had nothing to do with him.
My son, just three years old, was my only light. Watching him, I knew I couldnt let him grow up here, where his future meant slaving on the farm or moving to London, where hed always be an outsider. I want him to go to a proper nursery, to study, to travel, to see the world. Here? There isnt even decent Wi-Fi to put cartoons on for him. When I mentioned signing him up for an art class in the nearest town, Margaret scoffed: Whats the point? Better he learns to milk the cowthats useful!
I tried talking to Oliver. I told him I felt suffocated, that this wasnt what Id dreamed of. He just shrugged. Everyone lives like this, Emily. What do you expect? And then I found out Margaret plans to expand the barn and buy another cow. Of course, the work would fall on me. That was the final straw.
Ive been secretly saving upnot much, but enough for two bus tickets to the city. A friend in Cambridge promised to help with a place and a job. I picture my son and me boarding that bus, leaving this village, the goats, the cows, and Margarets sermons behind. I dream of a little flat where its just us, where I can work and my son can grow up with real opportunities. I want to feel human again, not like some workhorse.
Of course, Im scared. I dont know what life in the city will be like. Will I find work? Will the money last? But one things certain: I cant stay here. Every time I see my son playing in the yard, I think he deserves more. So do I. I wont let him watch his mother bow under this weight, losing herself to please others.
Margaret said the other day that Im too city and will never be one of them. You know what? Shes right. I dont want to be one of them. I want to be myselfEmily, who once dreamed of a career, of travels, of a happy family. And Ill do whatever it takes to reclaim that life. Even if it means grabbing a suitcase and running away with my son to somewhere no one forces me to milk cows.
