Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Even though I’d verbally expressed this gratitude already, I believed written words held more meaning. Growing up, my mother instilled in me the importance of writing thank-you notes. It was an older tradition she’d said was becoming nonexistent, thanks to technology. People made phone calls nowadays, or worse, sent texts. (Mom thought texts were the most impersonal.) And I wasn’t being raised like that. Not if she could help it. As soon as I could write, my mom had me sit down and make out cards for my friends and family the day after birthday parties or any special event where gifts were given.
Now I wrote thank-you notes for different reasons. I didn’t have to receive a present from someone. If I felt inclined to send a note of appreciation, I did.
And that night, I was feeling more inclined than I could ever remember feeling, let me tell you.
What Sean did for me meant a lot.
After dinner with the boys, one walk-in haircut, several loads of laundry I not only washed but took the time to fold and put away, and some social media time, I got started. And two rough drafts later, I’d polished up the note I’d written out, proofread it three times, and fancied it up with doodles along the edges of the card.
I also might’ve sprayed it with my perfume. With a light hand. Nothing crazy.
Then after sealing it in an envelope and addressing it to Sean, I stuck the thank-you note in my purse, made sure the boys were in bed, and turned in myself, considering it was already after one a.m. and we had a busy day tomorrow.
Both Dominic and Eli had sports stuff going on.
Dominic had a scrimmage, and Eli had practice. And both just so happened to be going on at the same time, at two different athletic parks.
Go figure.
It was a lot, but I had a plan. I’d split my time between the two, driving back and forth so I wouldn’t be choosing between my brothers, and I figured depending on the length of Dominic’s scrimmage, I could stay for the end of Eli’s practice and take him to the other field so we could both watch Dom.
The plan was simple. It was also one that could work.
However, life seemed to have a wild hare up its ass about me lately, so even though I felt good about this plan, I still had a difficult time shutting my brain off and passing out that night. What if there was some weird electrical malfunction where all iPhones shut down for no reason? If that happened, I’d miss the alarm I’d set to allow ample time for consumption of a big, hearty breakfast. The boys needed their fuel. Breakfast bars and cereal just wouldn’t do before a morning of sports, so I was relying on that alarm.
Now I figured the chances of this weird electrical malfunction happening were one in a million but again, wild hare. This led to the panicking. And typically when I panicked, I busied myself with a task in hopes I’d get distracted and forget about what I was panicking over.
I had several options, but I settled on alphabetizing my product supply, choosing that because it allowed me to stay in my room and make little to no noise.
It worked too. An hour later, I had systematized my inventory and successfully distracted myself enough to fall asleep.
I wasn’t worried about weird electrical malfunctions anymore. I knew the alarm I’d set would wake me up.
So, the next morning, when my eyes slowly fluttered open of their own accord—without an alarm—I was confused. I rolled to my side and pulled the charger cord, dragging my phone across the carpet until it was close enough to press the home button.
My phone lit up and displayed the time: 9:16.
“Son of a bitch!” I yelled, kicking the blanket off and scrambling off the futon. My alarm was set for eight-thirty. Why the FUCK is it 9:16?
“Get up! Get up!” I threw the door open and rushed out of the room, banging on the boys’ bedroom door as I continued to yell. “We only have fifteen minutes before we gotta leave! You guys gotta get dressed! Hurry!”
We wouldn’t have time for a big, hearty breakfast. The boys would be limited to cereal or a granola bar. I couldn’t even offer them something hot and filling, and a morning of sports called for something hot and filling.
Shit!
I was preparing to bust into their room when giggling at my back halted me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Dominic and Eli seated at the kitchen table, dressed and ready to go.
What the…
“Oh, you guys are up,” I said, surprised. Turning completely, I walked over, and getting closer, saw the full plates in front of them, filled with scrambled eggs, pancakes, and sausage links.