The tension around him was thick; clicking away like a metronome; time passing by before their eyes. She plucked a grey hair from her dyed head and examined it under the light. She was still young. Why did she always feel so damn old? She tossed it into the wastebasket next to the vanity and smiled while peering into the reflection that stared back at her.
She had a discussion with him earlier in the day; asking a question that left the words stuck in the back of his mouth like a piece of bread topped with peanut butter. He was searching for the words like he was searching for a glass of milk. Only soy for him. Pssh..what kind of a species didn't drink milk? Right from the carton no less. She should have taken note then. Somethings about him were just "off" and she'd never understand. It reminded her of the "got milk?" ads years ago and she quietly chuckled to herself without causing him to get abrupt and use his harsh words. The words he used cut like a knife and she was looking for a positive reaction, not the end of a steel blade. That was the whole point at this particular moment. She was exhausted and frazzled by feeling like she was being held up each night. Like she worked as a third shift clerk in any local convenient store. "Give me all your money!" She laughed again. "What money?", she thought, still laughing at herself and the ideas that flickered through her mind like a rapidly twirling movie reel projecting images like a silent movie. She was in charge of subtitles. She was good at that.
"Where is the fun?", she had asked while on a daily trek in a low hung sky kind of afternoon on their way to pick their kids up from school. It was her favorite part of the day. She always knew she could depend upon their sweet faces, their innocent hearts, curious questions, the smiles that graced their faces to further brighten her day. She often lost herself in their world, whether reading books or playing games, trying to place herself in their minds, how she once used to be. She often tried to see the world through their eyes. She was certain it was much brighter and it was always optimistic. She was a happy child; always smiling, always making the best of every situation. She was creative and cool, fun and flirtatious. She was known for being a friendly girl with a great outlook on life. She had a hard time remembering that girl and was most certainly convinced others didn't recognize her anymore either.
Upon picking up the kids, the world would be complete once they'd all settle around the dining table, ready for homework and daily discussions filled with laughs and goofy remarks until papers and pencils were replaced with dinner plates and warm food she had prepared to everyone's liking, or she'd hope at least. They were definitely picky eaters. Each had their own likes and dislikes and weren't afraid to express them. As difficult as it may have been to continually get it right (every meal made to order) she enjoyed cooking for them all, picky or not. She enjoyed them sitting around a table together, sharing their lives, making memories. She was thankful she was able to provide them with the things they needed, the likes and the dislikes. She'd stand over a hot stove preparing Matzo Ball soup and as inexpensive as it might be had a tough time swallowing the fact that millions of mothers were faced with much more dilemma than she. She couldn't imagine being in a position that left her unable to provide for her family or feed them adequately.
She enjoyed watching them at the table before dinner arrived. In his house, children didn't speak during dinner. She hated this rule and it gotten to a point she was too exhausted from disagreeing; never accomplishing anything anyhow. This was their house too and she was certain any story they had to tell was much warmer than pretending she had any interesting thing to discuss. Their interests were off track, different lines, different times, completely different railroads.
She asked him again. "Where is the fun?"
She had stumbled upon the question that hit her like a ton of clay bricks. It was as if a lightbulb was suddenly turned on and hanging above her head like the low clouds hanging in the sky on that particular day.
He couldn't answer the question, not any better than she could. He sat looking at her, mouth ajar and...nothing. She wasn't honestly looking for an answer. She was trying to get a point across to him.
She remembered early days filled with fun, laughter, smiles and endless amounts of affection. When trips to the grocery store were filled with tricks and treats. When cooking in the kitchen was turned into a groping fest; kisses on the nape of her neck sending chills down her spine and into the very tips of neatly polished toes. When ever moment without kids was filled with steamy minutes (or hours-if fortunate enough) in bed; holding on tightly to one another like the moment they were caught up in.
Somehow their life had caught up to them; somewhere in the rat race; and he had tapped them on the back. Turning around, they'd remember the face as if it were saying, "Hey remember me? I'm your life and I'm totally going to pass you by," as it sped past steadily. Mister Fun was somewhere in the same race, regardless of the speed he was going; he was forgotten along the way altogether.
She wanted to become best friends with them once again. Her husband and fun. They belonged in the same sentence like he and her belonged together in the beginning.
He drove a teal colored Jag during that time. The car screamed sex like the perfectly creased oxfords buttoned atop his olive skin. She didn't know which to do first, ask to drive or unbutton his shirt and get him into bed.
Each time he'd pull up in the car to pick her up for a night out on the town, she'd fall completely into him and melt away like the snowflakes hitting the windshield. The flakes were large, like her emotions toward him, and immediately upon hitting the warm surface would turn into small rivers running wild down the slope of the glass. She felt just like that; trying to contain her composure; her cool if you will; but melted away and emotions ran wild.
Regardless of where they were going, what activities were to take place-they'd always had fun. She was curious to know when they had stopped doing so. Did routine and schedules take the place of fun and games? Life had stepped in the middle, presenting the face of reality where fun once stood.
She decided that, with or without him, she would leave an open seat for fun and enjoyment at her table because they were welcome into her home anytime. They wouldn't complain of the soup right?
She vowed to stop taking everything so serious. Where was the fun in that? She knew deep down that making light of any situation was a task to be endured and defeated.
They had been to the edge of hell and back on numerous occasions and weren't hoping to return, not right away anyway. Things had been bad and things had been good. It was up to them to realize all the beautiful things that stood before them. They needn't continue counting the possessions that were missing but accept the things they had and offer praise.
She promised; again, with or without him, that she'd shrug off the things she couldn't control. She'd do her best to stop taking everything so personal. She'd learn to roll with the punches and duck in cover to avoid any further mishaps. There were things out of her control and learning to let go of them would make a much lighter, leaner, understanding mother (and wife, and friend, and daughter, and ..and ..)
They now drove a car that was on its last leg. Even if it had a last leg, it'd need a cast to cover something broken. Every single instance upon stepping foot onto the floor mat and firing up the engine was a surprise after gut wrenching surprise and all it caused was dollar signs to flicker behind her eyelids. It had been this way for months. Every free cent going towards repairs for the soccer mom mobile; setting the status quo for picking up the kids at their schools; waving to every other parent like, "We have money! We pay all of our bills on time. Do you like our car? It's a Volvo. Made in Sweden. How's little Timmy? Excelling at everything just like our perfect kids right? Good to hear. See you in church on Sunday. God Bless!" She laughed just thinking about it. She'd gladly take a city bus to get to wherever she need be; the marriage counselor, the speech therapist, the credit advisor. However this was the suburbs and apparently people from the 'burbs needn't public transportation because they had yet to put stops around the perimeter of the subdivision.
It was a massive world out there and priorities seemed to be jumbled about causing a mess. She wished for smaller. She couldn't help but think about making things smaller; the little things. She couldn't help but to get down on the floor that evening in her son's room; all the children in one confined space. She sat quietly, observing them. She focused on each one, taking in the sights and the sounds that filled the small bedroom. It was complete happiness and she found it in the smallest things, through the eyes of the smallest people that formed their family. What broke down car? What stack of bills going unopened; needn't mentioned unpaid? What problems? Life was grand right there in that small bedroom packed with small people. She could live in a one bedroom shack lit by candle and be happy so long as it was organized and these small people were present.
Old or not, she had transformed from a friendly and smiling young girl to a carefree and wild young adult to a happy and hungry wife and mother.
Hungry for more...
