Reality Ends

Coming home, I collapsed on the couch. Pain is like a knife cutting deep inside me. It was one of those moments where I could sit and watch the spruce branches dance on the breeze, staring without really seeing. How can the one person you love more than anything say to you something so thoughtless and hurtful? Can it be really be true that you, as a person, have no worth except for what you weigh in the monetary scales?

The day certainly hadn't started out this way. A visit to my son's to see him, my granddaughter, and of course the two dogs was a rare occasion as always. Between both of us working long hours, and me working out of province, visits are never near often enough.

Thinking back over the last few months, I knew I shouldn't have been taken by surprise as much as I was. Between Will working long hours, Ailin sick from all the germs little kids share at daycare, and the amount of money it takes every month to upkeep a house the size of the one Will and his family live in, the sheer weight of the stress load on him is incredible. Don't get me wrong. Will, and his wife Anna, both have good jobs and make more than an average wage, but looking back, I can see how Will has slowly evolved into a slave to the needs of the house.

Fending off the boisterous bouncing of Will's silver lab, Stacey, I made my way to the kitchen. I've yet to eat in Will's new house, but am dutifully offered my Keurig McDonald's coffee. The awkward tension is broken as we make small talk, trying to fill the gaps of silence. I suppress my wince as Ailin bursts into tears when she sees me. Two months of absence, a toddler cannot be expected to remember the face of family, no matter who they are.

I try not to let my mind wander to all the problems that niggle in the back of my mind: the truck repair, having to hire someone to help with chores and improvements I can't do, and of course to classes that start in a couple months, and all the changes that will come with that. Hesitantly, I start to speak about the worries that nibble at the back of my mind, like worms in an apple. Before I can say more than a few words, I am shut down completely by "Mom, don't even start to tell me your problems. I have enough of my own."

What have I ever done to deserve that? Being a single mom, I think back to all the hours of over time in a packing plant, followed by all the hours of helping with homework so Will could pass school. The long hours of brutal labor ensured that both kids never went without, and there was still enough left over for extras most single parent kids could never even dream of. The worst part was, even after that stage in life passed, getting Will into the trades was a struggle. It definitely wasn't for the fact he wasn't bright enough or motivated, but I certainly didn't have the right connections. I still remember all the phone calls made and all the resumes sent until he got his foot in the door to start his career.

The rest of my visit was done in autopilot. I made appropriate 'oohing' and 'aahing' noises over the new garden tractor. Hopefully I looked happy that Will was joining the committee for the local golf league. On top of it all, I even managed to get Anna's birthday present.

After pointlessly hashing over the day's unforetold turn of events, my mind turned to a bigger decision I had been putting off making; even bigger than convincing myself to take the plunge of quitting my deadbeat but 'paying the bills job.' JD and I had met online several months ago. Amazingly, we kept in touch through me working away and planning for classes and finally met. He had proposed to me the night before I went to Will's. The thought of committing myself to another person, on top of everything else, was too much. I mumbled some lame excuse and hung up the phone. Now after I'd thought about it, all the times he'd been there for me, and our weekend at Ten Mile Lake when I came up and met his parents and family, I knew exactly what I was going to tell him. I see that I definitely don't have to be condemn myself to being alone, no matter what's going on in my son's life. Outside, the breeze has stopped blowing and the spruce boughs are still.