The Question Linda Couldn't Answer

Linda stood at the kitchen counter looking at her calendar.

Wednesday was blank. Completely blank.

There was a time when she would have given almost anything for a day like that. For years, the little squares on her calendar had barely been big enough. Dentist appointments. Soccer practice. School programs. Church activities. Birthday parties. Grocery shopping. Work.

Someone needing to be picked up, dropped off, fed, reminded, encouraged, or rescued.

Even after the kids were grown, the calendar stayed full. There were grandchildren to help with. Her mother needed more attention for a while. There were holidays to organize and family dinners to plan. Someone always seemed to need something.

Linda had been good at being needed. She knew how to make things happen.

But lately, things had changed. Her children were doing well. Her grandchildren were getting older. Her mother had passed away two years ago. Even her husband seemed perfectly content with his routines. It was what Linda had always wanted. Everyone was okay.

So why did an empty Wednesday make her feel a little sad?

She closed the calendar and poured herself another cup of coffee.

The night before, her daughter had called. They'd talked about the kids, work, and a trip she and her husband were planning. Then her daughter had said something Linda wasn't expecting.

“Mom, you should plan something fun, too. What do you want to do?”

Linda had laughed. “Oh, I don't know. I'm fine.” And she'd changed the subject.

But standing in the kitchen the next morning, the question came back.

What do you want to do?

It seemed like such a simple question.

Linda knew what her husband wanted for his birthday. She knew which grandchild hated tomatoes and which one would eat macaroni and cheese every day if you let him. She knew her daughter's work schedule and which neighbor needed a ride to an appointment next week. She knew what everyone liked for Christmas. She knew who needed checking on. She knew how to make everybody's favorite meal.

But what did she want?

Linda sat down at the kitchen table. For some reason, the question made her uncomfortable. She thought about the sewing machine in the spare room that she hadn't touched in years. She thought about a friend who had asked her twice to take a watercolor class. She thought about the little town she'd driven through last spring and how she'd wondered what it would be like to spend a weekend there with no particular plans.

Then almost immediately came the other thoughts.

I don't need another hobby.

I should probably clean out that closet first.

Watercolor supplies would just be something else to buy.

There's no reason to spend money on a hotel when I have a perfectly good house.

Linda smiled a little. Apparently, she was very good at talking herself out of things she hadn't even decided she wanted yet.

She took a sip of coffee. Maybe that was the strange part. For most of her life, there had always been a reason behind what she did. Someone needed it. Something had to be done. There was a problem to solve or a person to care for. Doing something simply because she wanted to felt almost frivolous. Maybe even selfish.

Linda looked back at the blank square on the calendar. Wednesday. Nobody needed her that day. At least, not yet.

And for the first time, she wondered whether an empty space on the calendar had to mean that something was missing. Maybe it could mean there was room. Room for something she hadn't discovered yet.

She pulled a piece of paper from the drawer and found a pen. At the top, she wrote:

What do I want?

Then she stared at it.

Nothing came.

Linda laughed. “Well, that's helpful.”

She almost crumpled up the paper.

Instead, she added three more words.

What am I allowing myself to want?

That felt different.

She didn't suddenly have an answer. There was no grand revelation at the kitchen table that morning. But Linda left the paper there.

And later that afternoon, when she walked past it, she wrote one thing underneath.

Take the watercolor class.

She didn't sign up. Not yet.

But she didn't cross it out either.

And for today, that was enough.

What about you?

Sometimes when we've spent years being needed by other people, it can be surprisingly difficult to recognize our own wants.

You don't have to know what comes next.

You don't have to reinvent yourself.

And you certainly don't need to make a five-year plan.

Maybe you simply start with Linda's question:

What am I allowing myself to want?

Then see what comes up.

A little space to think about it

If this question stayed with you, I've created a free Still Needed reflection — “What Am I Allowing Myself to Want?”

It's simply a quiet place to explore the question for yourself.

Download the free reflection

Still Needed
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Still Needed Stories are fictional stories inspired by the experiences and transitions many women share. Characters and events are created for reflection and are not based on individual persons.