A Year of Second Chances. Buffy Andrews
her first Easter dress. One from her Brownie uniform. Another from her first ballet costume. Looking at the patches on the quilt flooded me with memories. Life really did go by in a blink.
I heard Muffin scratch on the door and opened it so she could join me in my sewing/craft room. She hated being alone as much as I did. I pointed to the floor beside the chair. “You sit there while I embroider this tag.”
I pulled the black strand through the cream-colored cloth, finishing the date. Then I looked at my handiwork.
To Tory
Love you with all my heart, Mom
May 8, 2017
I held it up to show Muffin. “So, what do you think, Muff?”
She cocked her little head and made a low-pitched moan.
“Now to sew the tag on and wrap it.”
I looked at the backside of the tag with its knots and loose threads, and then at the front. Funny how something could be both beautiful and ugly, depending on your perspective. It occurred to me that life was like that, and I wondered if we had to see ugliness to know beauty. Or if there was beauty in ugliness.
Whenever I thought of beauty and ugliness in the same sentence, I thought of one of my high-school classmates. Hope was beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside. I used to think she didn’t fit her name at all. Dope would’ve been more fitting than Hope. She was mean and her sense of entitlement destroyed any friendships she ever had. Shonna and I used to wonder how the most beautiful person in school could also be the ugliest. The last I heard, Hope was alone. But then so was I.
I finished sewing on the patch and wrapped Tory’s present in pink paper and topped it with a white bow. Like me, pink was her favorite color, as evidenced by the preponderance of pink quilt squares.
I picked up Muffin and let her outside to go to the bathroom. If I lived in the city, I might not be able to do this. Chances were I wouldn’t have much of a yard, if one at all. I remembered seeing a lot of paid dog walkers back in my nanny days. Often they’d end up at the park like me. I felt badly for the dogs, especially for the big ones. I wondered if they missed running through open fields and flowery meadows. But then I realized they couldn’t miss what they didn’t know. They were used to city life and had no idea it could be better.
I wondered if it was better not to know things. Like the future. If I’d had a crystal ball with the power to show me my tomorrows, I don’t think I would have looked in it. For me, the most important part of life had always been the journey. The mountains we climbed, the valleys we crossed, and all of the swaying bridges over troubled waters that turned our knuckles white as we held on for dear life. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes want to know the future (ahem, did I have breast cancer?), if only because of the peace of mind it would provide. Especially when it came to the kids.
I thought when they became older I’d worry about them less, but that never happened. In fact, the older they got, the more anxiety I had. If they weren’t home by curfew I’d convince myself they were lying dead in a ditch. It had been much easier to keep them safe when they were young, when I was the one in control. But as they grew, my control lessened. Eventually, I just had to let go and pray. I still prayed a lot. And I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about them. But I’d found some peace in knowing I’d done the best I could. It might not have been good enough, but it was my best.
Speaking of the kids, I could tell by the ringtone on my phone that David was calling. I had different ringtones for David and Tory. His was techno and Tory’s was classical.
“Hi, David.”
“Hey, Mom. Did you get the flight itinerary I sent you?”
“Yep. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Likewise. Anything new?”
I told David about the gym.
“I know. Tory called and told me.”
I shook my head. “I figured she would.”
David laughed “You ought to try CrossFit, Mom. It’s a great workout.”
“Not sure I’m ready for that.”
“How’s Muffin?”
“Good. She’ll be glad to see you, I’m sure. Work going okay?”
“Not bad. Been putting in some long hours. It’ll be good to have a weekend off. Most weekends I’m working.”
“Are you sure working for this tech start-up is what you want to do?”
“I know it sounds crazy because I could be making a lot more money doing something else, but I love being a part of building a company from scratch. Yes, the hours suck. Yes, the money sucks. There’s no time clock or recognition for working overtime. It’s an expectation rather than an exception. And yet the thrill I get when solving a problem and the high I get from seeing the company I work for succeed keeps me pumped.”
My heart sang as I listened to David talk about his job. The thing I’d always wanted most for my children was for them to be happy. Truly happy. And I could tell David was. I guess that’s why I blurted out I was thinking about quitting my job.
David coughed. “Whoa! What? Why?”
“I just think it’s time for me to do something else, something fun, and something I’ve always wanted to do.”
I could hear the high-pitched uncertainty in David’s voice. “O-kay. So what is it that you always wanted to do?”
I raked my front teeth over my bottom lip and wondered how much I should say. “I was thinking about opening a boutique downtown.”
“Hmm, well that’s not what I expected.”
“It’s not? What did you expect?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mom. Maybe go back to school and get your teaching degree.”
“Teaching degree. Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, you always liked kids and enjoyed teaching Sunday school and being my and Tory’s scout leader.”
“True, but I don’t feel called to teach. When I hear you talk about your job, David, I can hear the excitement in your voice. Even though the hours and pay aren’t what you’d like, you love what you’re doing and see it as an investment in your future. I want to feel that jazzed about my job. I’m tired of my Sundays being dominated by that sinking feeling the workweek is looming.”
“There’s actually a name for that, Mom. It’s call the Sunday Night Blues.”
I laughed.
“I’m pretty sure, Mom, that people who like their jobs experience a little of that, too. They see the weekend fun coming to an end and the start of five days of pressure.”
“And poor you,” I interrupted. “You don’t seem to have much fun, even on weekends.”
“Well, next weekend I will. I’ll text you when my plane lands. Is Dad driving up with us?”
“No, separate. But he’s staying at the same hotel and said you can sleep in his room if you want.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you more!”
I couldn’t wait to see David. While I loved both of my children equally, David and I shared something special. Maybe it was that mother-son thing people talked about. Or because he was my firstborn and I almost lost him when I slipped on a patch of ice and fell. I wasn’t sure, but if there was anything I’d learned from David, it was that you shouldn’t let money stand in your way of doing what you love. He’d followed his passion and talking to him made me want to follow mine.