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13

That’s the number of years it’s been since I first laid eyes on her. My daughter, my honeygirl, my image, my hope realized. I love her with all of me. I love all of my children but my relationship with her is different. She is my only daughter and we “get” each other. We talk with our eyes, slight head movements, half smiles and certain looks. We speak the same none language. We are not best friends. I’m her mom, her guidance, her boundaries, her gauge, her disciplinarian and her sounding board. I’m honored that she wants me in her life. She insists that I become friends with the moms of her friends. I’ve heard her tell friends she has the best or coolest mom ever. 

I didn’t have a great relationship with my mom growing up. I would never have referred to her as the best mom ever. I was never sure I could get this mother daughter thing right. Right for me was better than what I grew up with. But I’m getting it right. We are getting it right. I cherish every moment I get to spend being her mom. 

Happy Birthday Honeygirl!

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The betrayal

Something was not right. Her intuition’s sirens had been blaring for a few weeks. She kept silencing the alarms. She could easily tune them out while focusing on the kids. But as soon as there was some semblance of silence the alarms would sound again. Louder. More determined. Warning!!!

They had been married for almost a decade. They had five children together. The youngest was a baby. They took on traditional roles in the home. She was a stay at home mom and he worked outside the home. She did all of the cooking and most of the cleaning. He gave her a much needed break from the chaos of five active kids when he arrived home.

Some things changed. They were subtle. If wasn’t for the insistent alarms she might have missed them. He started working out. Consistently. No big deal. It happens all the time. People make commitments towards better health every day. He began leaving for work earlier than normal. Shrug. He could have had a major project he was working on. That’s not uncommon. He stopped answering her calls or they had abbreviated phone conversations even while he was driving home. Okay. He decided one day that he needed to start working from a coffee shop rather than at home after the kids and she went to bed. Why?

If you look at each of the incidents separately you find yourself asking, what’s the big deal? But the alarms. The alarms were telling her something was not right.

One day she decided to do what she had never done in the near decade they had been husband and wife, she signed on to their carrier’s website and checked his cell phone records. The alarms went silent. There was the confirmation of the feeling that had plagued her for weeks. Every morning on the commute to work, every evening on the way home, late at night when the household was quiet the same phone number was there. The number had taken up residence on the phone bill and owned more real estate on the pages than hers. She didn’t cry. She didn’t get angry, initially. She called him at work and asked who she was. He denied it at first. Cheating man rule #1 deny, deny, deny. Then he finally confessed. It was infatuation. He would leave her alone. But he didn’t. Things were normal for about a week. Then the alarm sounded again. This time she was angry. She wasn’t thinking logically. Maybe she was. She went to their closet and gathered up his clothes hanging the the closet and began tossing them in the front yard. Next were his shoes. After that she pulled the drawers out of the dresser and tossed those in the yard as well. (Perhaps she had seen Waiting to Exhale one to many times) After a quick trip to the hardware store boom bam bop, the locks were changed on the doors. She manually locked the garage door. Then she called him.

Come get your %#&! out of my yard before I turn the sprinklers on!! He talked to the other woman on the way home. She watched through the window as he filled his van with his belongs. Her anger subsided but her heart was broken. That day they began a journey down a path that was filled with twists, turns, forgiveness, and repeated betrayal. They would eventually come to a fork in the road and choose separate paths. They would no longer walk as one.

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With Friends Like This…

(Real life drama)

Opportunity only knocks once. Hhhmmm what if this is my opportunity? Is it my fault my mom didn’t give me enough money? I’m still kinda hungry. I want to ride the pirate ship one more time. Maybe somebody left it here. Finders really are keepers. I’ll just check to see if there is any food in the backpack. A wallet. Ten dollars. Maybe I shouldn’t.  But I want it. Nobody’s watching. Just this once. 

Somebody stole my money! I had ten dollars left but now it’s gone! Who would do that? 

I think I saw who took it. I think it was Amy. 

But she’s my friend. Why would she steal from me?

I don’t know. 

Amy, did you take ten dollars from me?

Do you have a green wallet with purple polka dots?

Yes. 

Yes, I took it. I’ll pay you back in about six months. 

I can’t believe she stole my money. She’s my friend! 

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Lemonade 

You know the saying by Elbert Hubbard “when life hands you lemons make lemonade”? I like the thought of handing the lemons to somebody else and let them make the lemonade. Im not talking about passing the buck but support. 

Today I spent my lunch following the questionable driving direction given by Siri. By the end of the hour I was frustrated with her and hungry. I went to a drive through and forgot to order. I realized my mistake before getting to the pick up window, got out of line and drove back through. When the attendant handed me the order I reminded him that I had asked for a cup of water as well. He handed me a drink and said, “I made you a lemonade.” 

Siri handed me lemons but this guy took them and made lemonade. 

Some days it really is the small things that matter.

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The List

She walked down the driveway towards her mailbox. The sun was peaking from behind the clouds. There was a slight breeze that moved the leaves on the oak tree.  A couple of blocks over someone was mowing their lawn. A few of the neighborhood kids were laughing and talking as they threw a football to each other. It was the end of a normal day but the beginning something unexpected. 

As she contemplated her day her lips curved into a slight lopsided grin. She always had the same smile when she accomplished her tasks for the day. She felt good about herself. She felt accomplished. Today she managed to cross off every single item on her list. She admitted to herself that she was slightly neurotic about her daily list. She planned her days carefully starting the night before. She read over and over again, “Successful people are organized. Successful people make lists.” Her list was on her phone. She found an app that made it easy to see the lists from previous days. From those lists, meetings on her calendar and todos provided by her manages, she composed her nightly list. Sometimes it took over an hour to determine the seven items then to rank them in order of importance. Neurotic but efficient. According to the books she read she was successful. Her system worked. 

She arrived to the mailbox at the same time as her neighbor. She broke away from her mental celebration to say hello. As she pulled out the mail and began to flip through she noticed a purple envelope. It was addressed to her but was void of a return address. She mentally went through her calendar. Was somebody getting married? Was this an invitation to a party? She tried, in vain, to to recall what event was coming up that would explain why someone would send her something in a lovely purple envelope. Her name and address were hand written in calligraphy. Something formal. She got excited at the thought of buying a new dress. 

As soon as she walked in the house she performed her regular routine of hanging up her keys placing her handbag on a hook and sliding off her pumps exchanging them for comfortable socks. As she sunk into her sofa cushions she held the purple envelope on her hands. She opened the envelope still thinking about the possibility of a new ensemble. What she read confused her instead of providing excitement. 

Dear Sofia;

Beginning at 9 pm on this day, you will have 48 hours to compose a list of twelve things you want to accomplish. As each item is completed you are expected to check that items off of your list. Enclosed you will find a check for $100,000. When those 48 hours expire, your life will end. 

by

She wept

It was her right as a woman in control of her body
It was her future
It was her choice
It was her present
It was her wrong she just didn’t know it at the time
She wept
She would join a sorority with an unwritten roster
She would not have monetary dues
She would pay and collect in tears and heartache
She would know many years of regret
She wept
Who knew she would mourn
Who knew she would subconsciously count the years
Who knew of her ever present fears
Who knew it wasn’t a topic to ever discuss
Who knew the sisterhood would not offer support
She wept
She was not alone yet nobody was there as she wept
If it was so right then why wasn’t it talked about amongst girlfriends like shoes and hysterectomies
Why wasn’t there a t-shirt or a walk to raise money for awareness?
Why isn’t there a scholaship fund for the less fortunate
Why wasn’t there a support group for the nights she wept
Why didn’t somebody warn her of the shame
She wept
She wept for the life she would never know
She wept for lies she was told
She wept for the future of one she would never hold
She wept for she was full of regret
She wept because there was not a soul that could feel her pain
She wept because there were 56 million other women like her just with different names
She wept
She wept
She wept

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The Unseen

She didn’t believe in things that go bump in the night. But sometimes, when she was home alone, she heard a noise upstairs. It sounded like somebody running from one room to another. That sound gave her chills.  She could hear the impression of the feet as they touched the floor above her. The first time it happened she blew it off. But it kept happening. She finally grew curious and brave enough to walk upstairs. Although she was unarmed and ill prepared, she knew it was time to confront her growing fear.