Hello, world

It's Wednesday. We made it to the middle of the week. And the morning is just as typical as any other.

Hello, world. How you been? Good to see you my old friend.

My list of things to do gets longer by the second. Nonetheless, I dive in, determined to get them accomplished. I make the boys breakfast while I multitask the other immediate needs. Joey shows me a notice asking for $3 for the holiday breakfast his class will have next week. It was due last Friday. I go in search of my usual hiding places for three $1 bills because it certainly isn't in my purse. I rarely carry cash.

Sometimes I feel as cold as steel. Broken like I'm never gonna heal.

"Mom," Joey reminds me, "I also need a stamped, self-addressed envelope." Another necessity for a class project. I give him an envelope and explain how he should address the envelope to himself. He goes for a pencil, but I tell him to use a pen. But there is not a single pen to be found. Where did all the pens go? No where, they are no where. "Just use a pencil, then," I give up on my search of a pen. But every pencil is broken, every mechanical pencil is missing lead, and the new electric pencil sharpener is wrapped and hidden away for the boys to open on Christmas morning.

Eventually, he finds a red pen, but I have long since moved on to the next project. I'm working on one of what will be several loads of laundry today. Some of it should have been done last night, but Tommy had interrupted my cycle to wash a single pair of sweatpants he planned to wear today. I can't lecture on him the impracticality of washing and drying a single item because he has already left for school.

I see a light, a little hope in a little girl. Oh, hello world.

The boys have finished breakfast, are getting dressed and ready to head out to wait for the bus. They rush to get out early so they can slide on the ice in the driveway. No, it didn't rain or snow recently. Christopher made several trips outside last night with bowls of water that he poured on the driveway, hopeful it would freeze overnight so they could entertain themselves while waiting for the bus this morning.

Of course, they bring Sammie out to play, too. I am thankful I didn't continue with the second level of puppy training because it seems with every progressive step I make with her and her adolescent puppy behavior, they undo it with their frolicking and playing. Today is no different. I am trying to get the trash out because today is trash pick up day in our section of town when Jeffrey comes in crying. Sammie pulled on his jacket and got hurt. As if provoking her and having her chase him around won't result in her coming after him. She is, after all, playing, as he wanted her to.

He stops mid-sentence, glances outside. I follow his gaze and we both watch the driver of the bus that had just picked up his brothers continue on to the next stop. There have been countless times when I have intercepted the bus coming back around the Cul-de-sac up the road, but not today. I am not even dressed, it is freezing out, and I have to go out in a while anyway. I tell Jeffrey to go watch cartoons, because I'll be driving him, only it won't be anytime soon.

Sometimes I forget what I'm living for and I hear my life through my front door. And I'll be there. Oh, I'm home again.

I'm drying my hair when Jeffrey tells me Sammie had an accident upstairs. I wonder how this could have possibly happened since only yesterday, I brought home a baby gate I loaned from a friend to block her from going upstairs. Jeffrey doesn't know how she got up there, but she did and when are we going because if we don't go soon, he will miss snack time at school.

I pull the van out of the garage, let it warm up while I gather my things together. I unwrap the memory quilt I have been making for my niece, ponder a moment as to whether I should include it in the box of gifts I still need to mail this week. The kids are understandably having a difficult time, and they are living in the house where she died just four months ago, with no plans to move. They can't even get a brief respite going to school because they are home schooled. No, perhaps now isn't the time to give them this. It might be better for all if I waited.

I take care of the mess upstairs, put Sammie in her crate, get the trash out and to the top of the driveway for pick up. I don't have time to make myself a cup of coffee. I get Jeffrey to school at 9:38. He is late, but he hasn't missed snack time. I stop at Dunkins for a large tea and a coffee for a long lost friend I'm going to see after I stop at the bank. My friend needs help with her computer, but I am there nearly 2 hours before we even get to the computer because we are deep in conversation, catching up on lost time. She is going through a difficult time, but still she smiles and stands proud for herself and her children. I have missed my old friend, but vow not to let time get away from me again and promise I'll be there to see her through this storm. That's what friends do, you know. They help each other no matter what, no matter when, no matter why.

All the empty disappears. I remember why I'm here. Just surrender and believe. I fall down on my knees. Hello, world.