My Reason

Why do I promise things I can't control? It makes me a habitual liar. I should be home by now, but the traffic is insane. I listen to the bellowing politician on my car radio dressing down the Governor for not keeping her pledge to fix 'the damn roads.' What the hell! Every route I travel across town is jacked up by road construction!

"Mom...Mom...I'm going to be late!!!" My daughter's exaggerated wail is timed perfectly with my frantic entrance into the house.

As I pull a couple of Hot Pockets from the freezer and stick them in the microwave, I assure her that I will get her to her dance recital on time. I've had to pee since before I left work and now it's an emergency. I take care of business, wash my hands, put new lipstick over old, and rescue the Hot Pockets before they explode. Trying to keep my voice level and sweet, I ask my daughter to eat her Hot Pockets while I search out my husband. I find him out back with my son, tinkering in the garage.

"Hi, guys. Doug, please feed Danny. Danny, please put your bike and Nerf guns away. I almost ran over them." Danny looks at his Dad and they both roll their eyes. Danny doesn't move until his Dad nods his head. I've been feeling like 'chopped liver' lately, definitely not part of the boy's club. Working fulltime and running a household is leaving me frazzled. There is no more 'me' time, for sure. The book club is out of the picture. I haven't had a manicure since before I got my promotion. Gardening, well, that is my joy and it looks like I am going to completely miss out on this growing season. I shake off the 'poor me' moment and run back to the house. God willing, I'll get my daughter to her recital on time.

***********************

The recital was hysterical. My daughter may not be a natural, but she sure has moxie. I was so shy at eight-years-old, I wouldn't have danced in front of my parents! After giving my daughter a healthy dose of praise, I send her off to bed. Danny is out like a light and his Dad is lost in something on the computer with his ear buds firmly attached to his head. Yes...some time alone! I sit at the kitchen bar and sip White Zin out of a juice glass. It is then that I see a package on the far end of the counter. It's wrapped in plain brown paper. It isn't mine. I'm curious and give it a little shake. There definitely is something in there. The wrapping job wouldn't win any awards and there is enough tape on it to handle all of next years Christmas presents. Odd, I think. I sit it back down where I found it and chuckle... probably something of the kids.

Tomorrow is Saturday. I don't have to go into work, but there will still be plenty of things to soak up all the hours of my day. That little bit of wine put me over the edge. Exhausted, I slip into an oversized shirt, brush my teeth and collapse.

I stir. I'm on the far edge of a dream that is still sticking with me. 'They' put a bomb in a box wrapped in plain, brown paper. It is at my front door, hooked to the door knob. The next person to open the door will set off an explosion. I am driving towards home like a maniac, ignoring warning signs and lights. I hear police sirens wail. Disoriented, I grope for my blaring alarm clock. Shit! Shit! Shit! I forgot to turn off my alarm before I went to bed. It's Saturday. I don't have to be up this early. I slap the alarm one more time for good measure and roll over. My dream is still lingering, but I shake it off. I don't have to be a genius to figure out how that dream wormed its way into my skull. Eventually, I drift back off to sleep.

The smell of bacon lifts me gently from my slumber. I sit up. Who's cooking bacon? I love my husband, but he is no chef and the kids are too little to be around a stove. At this point, my husband peeks around the door frame, holds his index finger to his lips, and mouths 'stay there.'

The kids strut into the room with a tray mounded high with food. I stare at my husband with a 'what the heck is going on' look. Everyone shouts, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" Stunned, I do some quick mental calculations and realize it is my birthday. I forgot my birthday! Not that thirty-four signifies any milestone, but, still, I have never forgotten my birthday. The smiles on my kid's faces far outshine the broken egg yolks, slightly burnt toast, and limp bacon that lay before me. At this moment, I would eat a frog. Doug winked and smiled at me. I am happy.

With both my belly and heart full, I go to the kitchen. The mystery box is now on the counter in front of my chair. Hmmm, now it makes more sense. Feigning surprise, I say, "What in the world is this??"

"Open it! Open it! We wrapped it ourselves! You're gonna love it!" My kids are so excited. No doubt, I am going to love whatever is in this box. I go to great lengths to carefully unwrap the paper, open the box, and remove the tissue paper...a watering can...not just any old watering can but a big, beautiful hammered copper watering can. I do love it.

There is more. Little hands tug me outside and I am pulled to the area behind our garage. Now I am surprised. I'm sort of shocked. A beautiful, blooming garden in raised boxes lay before me. This didn't happen overnight. Now the whispers and huddles that excluded me over the past few weeks makes sense. I carefully inspect my garden. It is perfect.

"This is the most beautiful gift I've ever been given. I love it, guys!" I look at the three beaming faces staring at me. I see my life in their smiles and know they are my reason.