Cloudy with a Chance of Tears

Cloudy with a Chance of Tears

The new eight-month-old in the house brought all kinds of insecurities to my seasoned toddler.

It’s only for a few weeks.
Plus, it’ll bring in a little extra cash.
And it’ll be good practice for when our new one arrives.

So said my reason.

But babies don’t follow reason. Don’t understand that other babies need their diapers changed. Don’t care that other babies need to eat.

And so they scream. Hour upon red-eyed, runny-nosed hour, they scream.

My one moment of sunshine arrived while with a friend, pressing infant seeds through fertile soil, dampening with warm water.

New life. Quiet life.

The ride home carried said new life on its seat, two little boys in tow, soon breathing deeply with the lull of the car. But home arrived too quickly. And so an important decision had to be made. Without a second thought, I continued driving, treasuring those moments of peace.

And driving, catching up with a friend on the phone.
And driving, making arrangements with work.
And driving, eyeballing the gas tank to make sure we could get home.

Somewhere along an unfamiliar road and a sharp turn, I hit my brakes. Too hard.

The peace, the quiet, and the moment of sunshine crashed onto the floor of the car, scattering seed, dirt, and all hope. I pulled over to survey the damage and was greeted by a black cloud.

A moment more on the side of the road evoked a stir from the back seat. No time to despair, no time to recover. Just drive, woman!

The driveway met us an hour after our journey started. Yes, one unashamed hour.

The babies amazingly resumed their crying where they had left off.

Thank goodness for tomorrows.

  • Hutchens Mary
    Posted at 06:04h, 04 March Reply

    You are an excellent writer, that was an enjoyable read!

  • MJ
    Posted at 20:27h, 27 February Reply

    I know who the friend on the phone was :0)

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