Gone fishing

This past weekend, I met my sister and sister-in-law for a spa overnight in Groton — a day and night with no children.
Childless for me, since I am the only one with kids.
It’s something a mother never quite gets used to — not having to buckle in a little guy in the car seat, not packing juices, portable snacks and toys, not having to reach for a tiny hand to cross the street.
I sat in a jacuzzi for the first time — hot, frothy water gurgling neck-deep; reading the rules posted at eye-level: "no more than 15 people" (??), "don’t go in alone" (doing exactly that), "take a shower with soap beforehand" (oops!) — and promptly removed myself after succumbing to guilt after just five minutes.
Next to the pool. I was the only one of the three who packed a swimsuit (a mom thing), so I did a few lazy laps then treaded water, watching the clock tick slowly past 12:30 p.m. Saturday afternoon and the whole area was empty save for me, even though the sign indicated it was "family swim" time.
A pedicure, then manicure, listening to two women discover their son and daughter attended the same school in Boston ("What a small world!") and a trio of co-workers catching up on gossip ("Linda left her husband." Immediate chorus of gasps, then, "Poor Linda!" I countered with "Poor Linda’s husband!" They didn’t reply.)
Dinner at Olio’s in Groton, then drinks at Margarita’s.
Back at the hotel by 9:15 p.m.
"Law and Order: Criminal Intent."
Asleep by 10 p.m.
Awaken Sunday, shockingly late for me — at 7:56 a.m.
Best night’s sleep in more than 10 years.
Don’t tell the boys.