The Ultimate Promise

My morning started like any other, stressed out, crunching numbers and plastering that day long smile on my face for those little pudgy dumplings asleep in the back. My alarm clock use to beat me to the crack of dawn wakeup call but now the anxiety of getting everything in order has me up at hours that simply should not exist.

“Mom!”

The collective yell I hear coming from my 6 and 12-year olds rooms which means breakfast in overdrive and breaking up the “Don’t touch my stuff” battle. Quick splash of water to the face to recover these bags and I’ll be ready to get the day started. Sanai is the first to run in and koala grip herself to my leg (at 6 she has the grip of a 30 year old man), and then comes Maya, my 12 year old with the weight of the world on her shoulders (you’d think she had the full time job). Situating them at the table and placing their waffles and bacon in front of them, I watch my little one drown hers in syrup just as her father used to do. I can’t even begin to reminisce on that emotional roller coaster so instead it’s time to get the girls ready for school. Backpacks on, lunches packed, Sanai’s sneakers lighting up on the way to the bus, I get my final wave in before shutting the December air out.

I turn toward my computer propped up on my table from the night before, dragging my feet toward the couch wondering if my insurance would pay if I “accidentally” tripped, spilled my coffee into the wall socket and burned down my house...Yeah probably not. Anyway, enough antics, I’ve got work to do. Working from home has been both a blessing and a curse. I get to spend time with my girls but with everything going on, bills have been bullying me every month and both my check and I are helpless. Still, I’d much rather work in my pajamas than deal with that commute to the city. Silently signing into my work email, I glance over to the nightstand where I had left my husband’s final words; sitting there, the little black book he stored his life away in. I could never understand his fascination for putting every little detail in that thing, but I never questioned it, nor have I read a single word. Everyone has something they consider sacred and for him it was that little book. A few weeks prior to my husbands passing he placed that very book in the nightstand on my side of the bed, and since that day I haven’t had the heart to open it. Sigh. Back to work.

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“FINAL NOTICE”, the bright red letters beaming up at me as I stare at the closed

envelop knowing full well the details of its contents. I almost missed the girls saying hello as they blew past me leaving the door open and a trail of shoes leading to their room, and my mother screaming goodbye from the car. I quickly called out my hellos and stuffed the envelop into the corner of the couch, shut the door and yelled for them to get started on homework. The hide and seek game I was playing with the eviction notices was becoming tedious and I was definitely running out of places to stuff these things. I remember being completely oblivious to the idea of bills and money management watching my parents sit at the table, hands gripping their foreheads while I flew out the door to yet another try out they had to pay for. Now look, my little ballerina spinning in the hall and my basketball player practicing her big game moves, sweet oblivion.

Food finished, baths taken, homework completed, it’s time for bed. Kissing my babies goodnight is the peace I look forward to at the end of every stressed out day. Glass in hand, I make my way to my candle and nightlight dimmed living room to do some reading and just as I suspected, that little leather cover shimmering in a glow at me. After 2 years I think it’s time I finally thumbed through the pages of my husbands’ thoughts. I was stunned when I picked it up, that it was so light; he was always writing and his thoughts were always racing, how could it have possibly all fit into this miniaturized journal? Regardless, it was time to see what kept that pen going at 3 am.

I opened to the first page:

“Finally. I can’t imagine how long it must’ve taken you to open this book knowing our promise that you wouldn’t until my passing. My love, I can’t even begin to understand the sorrow in your heart, and I apologize that I can’t embrace you in this moment. The contents of these pages will express the immense and immeasurable love I have for you and our beautiful girls and all that you meant to me, but there’s something I must tell you first. The day we met 14 years ago, I told you, you would become my wife and that I would always take care of you. We were basically kids so I couldn’t really hold up my end of the bargain for a little while lol but you stuck with me anyway....Well, a few years ago I opened an account and nicknamed it “My promise”. (I can only imagine how wide your eyes are right now so I’ll keep going) yes, I’ve been putting money into that account without your knowledge and I must say, I’ve saved a pretty penny ;) lol. On the next page you will find all the information and have full access to what will now be YOUR account. As I’m writing this the account now sits at (drumroll please) $20,000 and counting! I hope I managed to save more before you’ve gotten to open this book and upon my passing my dad will manage the account until you’re ready. Abby...I love you with all of me and I know I can’t physically be there for you, but I had to keep my promise....

To the moon, and beyond and back around again...I love you my Queen...Kiss our angels for me.”

I didn’t even yelp in pain as both the book and wineglass hit my foot on the way to the floor. Maya’s voice yelling my name is the only reason I realized my mouth was open the entire time and that familiar salty taste meant I was crying. Snapping back into reality I knelt and hugged my wide-eyed girls and told them how much I loved them and how much their dad loved them. We were going to be ok, for the first time in what felt like years I exhaled, and I could feel the world around me.

Ashley K. Anderson