Epiphany

As she held the notice in her hand,
her insides gave a quivering gallop.
She thought they were done.
She thought she saw a light at the end
of the massive debt tunnel.
Apparently not.
In a moment of complete despair,
she went through the motions
of making supper.
Then she ran to her room and
burst into tears.
She let herself feel sad,
feel vulnerable and defeated.
She let herself have a full blown
pity weep.
It nurtured her inner princess,
in a way she needed to be consoled.
Just as her self indulgence gained the potential
to spiral into self deprecation,
there was a knock on her door.
It was her son.
He was asking if he could skip dinner.
The dinner she started preparing at
7:00 am... baking croutons
and polluting the house with
AM au du garlic.
The lasagna she dutifully layered,
although all she really wanted to do
was go upstairs and cry.
THAT DINNER...
He was asking to skip.
She asked why.
He said that his girlfriend loves
crème brûlée.
He bought a torch today.
He wanted his dad to give
him a ride to the grocery store,
so he could buy white sugar.
Then he wanted to go to her house
and make her dessert.
He was too excited to eat.
He asked if it was OK
to be excused.
It hit her like a
baseball to the nose.
TO HELL WITH MONEY!
She saw it,
what was entirely more important.
She had a son
who cared enough about a girl
to bend over backwards to be cute,
and kind, and loving.
He spent his hard earned salary
on a blow torch,
so her could make her
crème brûlée.
The kid is GOLD.
The kid's a MILLION BUCKS!
What more could she ask for?

Sally