"Tired, ornery, and cranky." That is what I said when you asked how I was doing. I’d worked nearly fourteen hours trying to make the monthly dashboard perfect so I could take next day off and have a three day weekend in Bassett. Not that that was going to be relaxing. I was trying to be nice and offered to help Dad weed the garden and the flower beds so he could figure out why the hot tub wasn’t working anymore.
The Motrin, I took a half an hour ago, hadn’t kicked in. And I was tired of people. I must have been on the clueless frequency, because I sure attracted a lot of stupidity wrapped up in well meaning people today. Someone asked about you and proceeded to quote dire mortality statistics and wanted to know if you were in the sun all the time growing up. I didn’t think he would ever shut up about how deadly the sun could be. Someone else told me about the sister of a friend who has been in complete remission from Stage III for seven years. I don’t know who I hated more – doom and gloom or miracle survivor. To make matters worse, I was really trying to get home by six and two people who never bother me decided to darken my doorway and get all chatty. I willed them to leave, but it didn’t work. I pretended to listen but my thoughts bounced between how to show the metrics on the dashboard to tell a more complete story and whether or not you had your posse lined up for treatment next week.
“Ask Turkeyman if he wants anything from Chilis.” Dad said as we turned into the parking lot around 10:30. You ate dinner around 8 at Olive Garden with Katie so you weren't hungry. Dad asked me if I wanted something. I lied and said "no" because you know I never eat this late at night for fear of getting fat. As soon as Dad got out, I closed the AC on my side while you talked about possibilities. You were really excited to make new friends at Wegmans and were actually letting people in. You were even more excited they were Foodies like you. You planned to share your find – Amphoras -- the all night diner, when you got back to work after this next round of treatment. Either I caught your excitement or the Motrin kicked in, because my headache disappeared by the time you hung up.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
D Day Minus 202 (August 18, 2009)
"I can't believe how hot and humid it is." Dad said. You and I trailed a respectful distance behind him making our way to the entrance of Mimi's Cafe. I trailed even further behind when I had one of my mini panic attacks. You know, the kind where I think I forgot to turn off my curling iron, or can't find my glasses or my iPod. This time, it was about the Mimi's gift card Katie gave Dad and me for our wedding anniversary. I speluncked through my cavernous purse and found it hiding in the side pocket. When I got my racing heart under control, I ran to catch up with you and Dad.
"I think its over a 100 degrees." Dad droned on about the weather like it made it any cooler. He didn't shut up about it until he got blasted by freezing cold air when he opened the big double doors to Mimi's.
"That's better." Dad said, actually he almost sang it. His eyes rolled in the back of his head while he absorbed the cool air through every pour on his body. You glanced over at me and smiled, then started talking about one of your favorite topics -- food. This time, you assured Dad and me, you'd try the pork chop dinner and Mimi's Trio: an apple crisp, bread pudding, and a triple chocolate brownie ala mode. You had to gain the three pounds you dropped during the last round of chemo.
"How many?" the hostess asked. Instinctively, three fingers on my right hand popped up like a two year just learning to count. "Inside or outside?" She asked. Before I could say anything, Dad piped in with, "inside - it's air conditioned." On that note, the hostess scurried away and muttered something about a ten minute wait.
We got situated on the overstuffed chairs in the lobby. We were right under the air conditioning vent, so I nestled up to Dad. And he shot me a death stare while he wiped sweat off his neck. I pulled out my sweater buried in my purse and put it on. Dad shook his head and said, "Nance, you've got to get some meat on those bones." I tried not to think of the time when I was a sophomore at Granger High School. Coach Shepherd did me a 'favor' just after I'd just finished eating lunch in the cafeteria. He told me I was fat and needed to stay away from junk food. I told myself to stop thinking about the Coach and thought about getting on the cross trainer after dinner instead. You and Dad were in a deep discussion about the merits of FIFO or first in first out for production rotation, while my battle with the fat demon raged on.
You kept your promise and ordered your massive pork chop dinner. Dad stuck with salmon and vegetables. And I got the Salmon Nicois Salad, which I totally bungled pronouncing when I tried to order it. Oh, and a really big muffin but the low fat version -- of course. This time we all splurged on drinks, instead of water, which we usually got because it was a healthier choice. Dad got plain iced tea. You got fruit punch. And I got Diet Coke. They all came in the standard industrial sized gold plastic tumblers and unlimited refills.
During dinner, we teased Dad about getting shorter and me getting taller. We talked about you coming up to speed in the bakery at Wegmans. We laughed about how you beat the odds about losing your hair. We talked about how lucky you were that you didn't lose too much weight and that you felt good. After we finished our meals, I was too stuffed to eat anymore and asked to have my muffin put in a box to go. You and Dad started Round 2: dessert. Dad got some pie and you stuck to your promise about Mama's Trio.
While we waited for dessert, you lifted up your industrial size tumbler, and said, "To Mom and Dad." We clinked our tumblers and nodded to each other. I squeezed Dad's knee and added, "To not killing each other after twenty-seven years." Then I laughed my naughty evil laugh and kissed Dad. And hoped, you'd get the chance to torture Katie after twenty seven years of marriage.
"I think its over a 100 degrees." Dad droned on about the weather like it made it any cooler. He didn't shut up about it until he got blasted by freezing cold air when he opened the big double doors to Mimi's.
"That's better." Dad said, actually he almost sang it. His eyes rolled in the back of his head while he absorbed the cool air through every pour on his body. You glanced over at me and smiled, then started talking about one of your favorite topics -- food. This time, you assured Dad and me, you'd try the pork chop dinner and Mimi's Trio: an apple crisp, bread pudding, and a triple chocolate brownie ala mode. You had to gain the three pounds you dropped during the last round of chemo.
"How many?" the hostess asked. Instinctively, three fingers on my right hand popped up like a two year just learning to count. "Inside or outside?" She asked. Before I could say anything, Dad piped in with, "inside - it's air conditioned." On that note, the hostess scurried away and muttered something about a ten minute wait.
We got situated on the overstuffed chairs in the lobby. We were right under the air conditioning vent, so I nestled up to Dad. And he shot me a death stare while he wiped sweat off his neck. I pulled out my sweater buried in my purse and put it on. Dad shook his head and said, "Nance, you've got to get some meat on those bones." I tried not to think of the time when I was a sophomore at Granger High School. Coach Shepherd did me a 'favor' just after I'd just finished eating lunch in the cafeteria. He told me I was fat and needed to stay away from junk food. I told myself to stop thinking about the Coach and thought about getting on the cross trainer after dinner instead. You and Dad were in a deep discussion about the merits of FIFO or first in first out for production rotation, while my battle with the fat demon raged on.
You kept your promise and ordered your massive pork chop dinner. Dad stuck with salmon and vegetables. And I got the Salmon Nicois Salad, which I totally bungled pronouncing when I tried to order it. Oh, and a really big muffin but the low fat version -- of course. This time we all splurged on drinks, instead of water, which we usually got because it was a healthier choice. Dad got plain iced tea. You got fruit punch. And I got Diet Coke. They all came in the standard industrial sized gold plastic tumblers and unlimited refills.
During dinner, we teased Dad about getting shorter and me getting taller. We talked about you coming up to speed in the bakery at Wegmans. We laughed about how you beat the odds about losing your hair. We talked about how lucky you were that you didn't lose too much weight and that you felt good. After we finished our meals, I was too stuffed to eat anymore and asked to have my muffin put in a box to go. You and Dad started Round 2: dessert. Dad got some pie and you stuck to your promise about Mama's Trio.
While we waited for dessert, you lifted up your industrial size tumbler, and said, "To Mom and Dad." We clinked our tumblers and nodded to each other. I squeezed Dad's knee and added, "To not killing each other after twenty-seven years." Then I laughed my naughty evil laugh and kissed Dad. And hoped, you'd get the chance to torture Katie after twenty seven years of marriage.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
D Day Minus 204 (August 16, 2009)
I hoped you'd call me all morning. And you finally did around 10:30. I didn't care that I was in the middle of the corpse pose on the hardest workout on my Bryan Kest Yoga DVD. I wanted to hear your voice.
We talked about how Morgan wanted me to start P90X , but I wasn't ready to make the commitment to Tony Horton. You told me to take my time and start when I was ready. You hoped your new Wegmans shirts would come in the mail in the next couple of days, so you wouldn't have to do laundry as much.
You were excited about having the day off and rattled off your to do list:
The two of you talked bread - baking, mixing, rising, ovens, temperatures, and yeast for about ten minutes until I got control of the phone again. Just before we hung up, you said, "You need to try the asiago bagels.....Tomorrow."
After my shower, I checked Facebook. And you did it again -- you were littering my headlines with your Farmville announcements. I shook my head and smiled at the silly distraction. I could almost hear you laughing at your computer, music blaring with Daryl Hall and John Oates hits, with one goal -- beat Katie.
We talked about how Morgan wanted me to start P90X , but I wasn't ready to make the commitment to Tony Horton. You told me to take my time and start when I was ready. You hoped your new Wegmans shirts would come in the mail in the next couple of days, so you wouldn't have to do laundry as much.
You were excited about having the day off and rattled off your to do list:
- go to Wegmans and pick up groceries so you could cook Katie dinner,
- maybe watch your Harry Potter movies,
- do laundry so you had clean clothes for work tomorrow,
- get some lunch that had a lot of calories so you could get your weight back up to 155 pounds, and
- harvest some crops on Farmville on Facebook so you could beat Katie.
The two of you talked bread - baking, mixing, rising, ovens, temperatures, and yeast for about ten minutes until I got control of the phone again. Just before we hung up, you said, "You need to try the asiago bagels.....Tomorrow."
After my shower, I checked Facebook. And you did it again -- you were littering my headlines with your Farmville announcements. I shook my head and smiled at the silly distraction. I could almost hear you laughing at your computer, music blaring with Daryl Hall and John Oates hits, with one goal -- beat Katie.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
D Day Minus 205 (August 15, 2009)
"When were you and Greg going to Houston?" Dad absently asked between work email and bites of eggs over easy nestled on whole grain toast. I held my breath and willed myself not to let out a big sigh. I just stared past Dad through the kitchen window, while a golf cart raced to the seventh hole at the Bassett Country Club. I considered taking one of Dad's stupid Hobby Farm Magazines, rolling it up and stabbing him like Norman Bates stabbed Janet Leigh in Psycho. Then, I decided not to because we'd just hung the shower curtains in the claw foot tub upstairs and I was tired from all that weeding in the front flower beds before breakfast. So, why bother? Besides, I didn't really think I had the upper body strength to dispose of his body.
Well anyway, last Sunday I made reservations downstairs in my office in Sterling and checked with Dad while he was finally cleaning the garage. You saw me go back and forth between my office downstairs and the garage at least three times. Remember you were watching Modern Marvels on the History Channel in the family room.
You kept checking to make sure I was doing all right each time I'd retreat from the garage. You could tell I was nearing my spastic mode. I couldn't help it, I was worrying about Dad's reaction about having to get up at "oh dark thirty" or getting stuck in traffic. Anyhow, the only flights I could get that didn't cost a thousand bucks a pop to Houston were out of BWI and in the afternoon just around rush hour, which could take us nearly two and half hours from Sterling. So you know that I DID tell Dad about the airport and DID check with him on the timing and DID just offer to leave the car in long term parking.
"You don't have to drive us to Baltimore like I said last week. I don't want to be a bother." I barked, putting my plate in the dishwasher and dropping my fork on the floor. Dad looked up from his damn laptop like I was from another planet.
"I didn't say that Nance. I just asked a simple question. When was I supposed to take you and Greg to Baltimore?" Dad was calm, which pissed me off even more.
"September 9th. I DID email you the itinerary when I made the reservations." I plopped down hard on my kitchen chair and nearly tipped over the trash can when I landed to check MY email.
"Here it is." I said maximizing Exhibit A to full screen size. "I forwarded it to you when I made the reservation on the 9th of August.
"See." I said, turning the screen for Dad to see. "The flight leaves at 5:55 from BWI." Dad closed his laptop a lot harder than usual and started fidgeting with the mole on the back of his neck.
"What, do you want the airline too?" I glared. Without missing a beat, I added. "Continental."
"Nance, why are you on my ass?"
"I'm not." I headed outside, car keys, in hand. Dad stood between me and the back door.
"The SUV needs an oil change." I said trying to get past Dad. "I need to take care of it." Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"The oil change can wait." Dad said reaching to hug me. "Or I can do it."
"It's just that I don't know if the treatment is working." I said muffled into Dad's chest.
"I know." Dad said. "Neither do I."
By the time, Dad let go there were two big wet spots on his favorite yellow shirt. But, I felt better. I sniffed really hard and said something about my nose running. Dad kissed me and said his corny canned joke about "you better go catch it." I shook my head and laughed a little, then I decided to get the oil changed so I wouldn't have to mow.
I wanted to talk to you, but knew you were busy at work. So I texted, "BiZ" our shorthand for Believe in Zebras and "No response required" from the SUV in the driveway. On the way to get the oil changed, I thought of the times we talked about the Law of Attraction and the need for contrast so you knew what you did want. Thankfully, I had my bluetooth headset on, so the guy with the mullet in the pickup truck next to me at the stoplight couldn't tell that I was talking to myself.
"I want the treatment to work so you can get on with your life. I want to be annoyed by normal everyday things like figuring out what to have for dinner. I want to know there is more than this. I want you to get your own place and ask to borrow tools. I want all of us to learn to play an instrument and start a family band so we can play on holidays. I want to be present in the moment. I want Dad to win the lottery because it would just be fun to see him excited. I want a vacation home in Hawaii so we get the Aloha spirit on a regular basis. I want to be aware of all the goodness around me. I want to find good airfares back to Houston. But, mostly I want the treatment to work"
I glanced over at mullet guy, smiled because I knew what I wanted.
Well anyway, last Sunday I made reservations downstairs in my office in Sterling and checked with Dad while he was finally cleaning the garage. You saw me go back and forth between my office downstairs and the garage at least three times. Remember you were watching Modern Marvels on the History Channel in the family room.
You kept checking to make sure I was doing all right each time I'd retreat from the garage. You could tell I was nearing my spastic mode. I couldn't help it, I was worrying about Dad's reaction about having to get up at "oh dark thirty" or getting stuck in traffic. Anyhow, the only flights I could get that didn't cost a thousand bucks a pop to Houston were out of BWI and in the afternoon just around rush hour, which could take us nearly two and half hours from Sterling. So you know that I DID tell Dad about the airport and DID check with him on the timing and DID just offer to leave the car in long term parking.
"You don't have to drive us to Baltimore like I said last week. I don't want to be a bother." I barked, putting my plate in the dishwasher and dropping my fork on the floor. Dad looked up from his damn laptop like I was from another planet.
"I didn't say that Nance. I just asked a simple question. When was I supposed to take you and Greg to Baltimore?" Dad was calm, which pissed me off even more.
"September 9th. I DID email you the itinerary when I made the reservations." I plopped down hard on my kitchen chair and nearly tipped over the trash can when I landed to check MY email.
"Here it is." I said maximizing Exhibit A to full screen size. "I forwarded it to you when I made the reservation on the 9th of August.
"See." I said, turning the screen for Dad to see. "The flight leaves at 5:55 from BWI." Dad closed his laptop a lot harder than usual and started fidgeting with the mole on the back of his neck.
"What, do you want the airline too?" I glared. Without missing a beat, I added. "Continental."
"Nance, why are you on my ass?"
"I'm not." I headed outside, car keys, in hand. Dad stood between me and the back door.
"The SUV needs an oil change." I said trying to get past Dad. "I need to take care of it." Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"The oil change can wait." Dad said reaching to hug me. "Or I can do it."
"It's just that I don't know if the treatment is working." I said muffled into Dad's chest.
"I know." Dad said. "Neither do I."
By the time, Dad let go there were two big wet spots on his favorite yellow shirt. But, I felt better. I sniffed really hard and said something about my nose running. Dad kissed me and said his corny canned joke about "you better go catch it." I shook my head and laughed a little, then I decided to get the oil changed so I wouldn't have to mow.
I wanted to talk to you, but knew you were busy at work. So I texted, "BiZ" our shorthand for Believe in Zebras and "No response required" from the SUV in the driveway. On the way to get the oil changed, I thought of the times we talked about the Law of Attraction and the need for contrast so you knew what you did want. Thankfully, I had my bluetooth headset on, so the guy with the mullet in the pickup truck next to me at the stoplight couldn't tell that I was talking to myself.
"I want the treatment to work so you can get on with your life. I want to be annoyed by normal everyday things like figuring out what to have for dinner. I want to know there is more than this. I want you to get your own place and ask to borrow tools. I want all of us to learn to play an instrument and start a family band so we can play on holidays. I want to be present in the moment. I want Dad to win the lottery because it would just be fun to see him excited. I want a vacation home in Hawaii so we get the Aloha spirit on a regular basis. I want to be aware of all the goodness around me. I want to find good airfares back to Houston. But, mostly I want the treatment to work"
I glanced over at mullet guy, smiled because I knew what I wanted.
Monday, June 21, 2010
D Day Minus 206 (August 14, 2009)
"So would you ever move to New York?" I asked as we pulled into the Chipotle parking lot just off Route 7 by Borders and the Regal Cinemas. You were in the passenger seat, tired but happy, after your first day training in the bakery at the Dulles Store. I was killing time like I usually did whenever Dad would make the decree about "leaving work early and heading south to Bassett before 66 gets backed up."
"Maybe. But, I really don't want to be too far from you and Dad." You furrowed your brow like you were trying New York on for size. "If something came up with Wegmans and Katie wanted to move and it was within a reasonable driving distance from you." You sighed, looking at the digital clock in the console. " It took awhile for me to get it, but family is the most important thing and I don't want to be too far away."
We got out of the SUV. You winced when I slammed the door a little too hard for your liking. I drew in my breath, thankful it was my vehicle. I didn't want a repeat performance of what I deemed Mimi's Meltdown from a couple of days ago. Fortunately, the six or seven of Loudoun's finest filing out of Chipotle's got your attention.
"What did you do?" I teased, knowing your love hate relationship with the cops every since you got your license.
"They're after you Mom, I didn't drive." You said, eyebrows raised.
"That's for sure." I laughed, then slugged your arm . "Yeah, you drive like a grandpa."
"Well at least, I haven't had a ticket since...." You didn't finish your sentence, but we both knew that your Mario Amdretti days were a thing of the past after you got your license suspended at nineteen for reckless driving.
"Serioulsy, why are there so many cops?" You asked considering possible scenarios putting your right index finger to your lips.
"I bet it was because they get a discount." I opened the double glass doors to a wall of refrigeration and immediately got chills. "When I was a Manager at McDonald's, we gave the cops food for half price because it was good for business to have a police presence." I wrapped my arms around waist, trying to get warm.
"That makes a lot of sense." You said weighing my answer. "McDonald's is invested in Chipotle."
The line was almost out to the door and we got stuck behind the some track team that was pretty loud. Neither of us cared about the wait and we just stood a little closer and talked a little louder.
"I think I was little too slow for the lady who was training me to mix breads. A couple times, I think she wanted me to get out of the way so she could make the bread." You said.
"Damn Management Trainee." I chimed in.
"But, I started to get the hang of it." You stood a little straighter when you said it.
"Like you said Greg, you don't have to best at making and baking bread, you have to the be best at managing people and resources." You smiled a satisfied smile and and asked, "Did I tell you my store is getting the new deck ovens instead of the brick ovens at Dulles." You proceeded to tell me the merits of deck ovens over brick ovens, which I forgot by the time I paid for your barbacoa burrito with black beans. We talked until Katie called you while you were eating your burrito at home at the kitchen table. I loved that we talked for over an hour and cancer never came up --- once.
"Maybe. But, I really don't want to be too far from you and Dad." You furrowed your brow like you were trying New York on for size. "If something came up with Wegmans and Katie wanted to move and it was within a reasonable driving distance from you." You sighed, looking at the digital clock in the console. " It took awhile for me to get it, but family is the most important thing and I don't want to be too far away."
We got out of the SUV. You winced when I slammed the door a little too hard for your liking. I drew in my breath, thankful it was my vehicle. I didn't want a repeat performance of what I deemed Mimi's Meltdown from a couple of days ago. Fortunately, the six or seven of Loudoun's finest filing out of Chipotle's got your attention.
"What did you do?" I teased, knowing your love hate relationship with the cops every since you got your license.
"They're after you Mom, I didn't drive." You said, eyebrows raised.
"That's for sure." I laughed, then slugged your arm . "Yeah, you drive like a grandpa."
"Well at least, I haven't had a ticket since...." You didn't finish your sentence, but we both knew that your Mario Amdretti days were a thing of the past after you got your license suspended at nineteen for reckless driving.
"Serioulsy, why are there so many cops?" You asked considering possible scenarios putting your right index finger to your lips.
"I bet it was because they get a discount." I opened the double glass doors to a wall of refrigeration and immediately got chills. "When I was a Manager at McDonald's, we gave the cops food for half price because it was good for business to have a police presence." I wrapped my arms around waist, trying to get warm.
"That makes a lot of sense." You said weighing my answer. "McDonald's is invested in Chipotle."
The line was almost out to the door and we got stuck behind the some track team that was pretty loud. Neither of us cared about the wait and we just stood a little closer and talked a little louder.
"I think I was little too slow for the lady who was training me to mix breads. A couple times, I think she wanted me to get out of the way so she could make the bread." You said.
"Damn Management Trainee." I chimed in.
"But, I started to get the hang of it." You stood a little straighter when you said it.
"Like you said Greg, you don't have to best at making and baking bread, you have to the be best at managing people and resources." You smiled a satisfied smile and and asked, "Did I tell you my store is getting the new deck ovens instead of the brick ovens at Dulles." You proceeded to tell me the merits of deck ovens over brick ovens, which I forgot by the time I paid for your barbacoa burrito with black beans. We talked until Katie called you while you were eating your burrito at home at the kitchen table. I loved that we talked for over an hour and cancer never came up --- once.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
D Day Minus 207 (August 13, 2009)
“How was it?” I asked when you stepped into our air conditioned foyer, a refuge from Northern Virginia’s heat and humidity. You wore khaki pants and the brown and green striped shirt you saved for special occasions. And the biggest smile plastered across your face. Even your hair was happy – and still there – with no sign of falling out. “What was wrong with this picture?” I thought to myself. Absolutely nothing! It was magical, so I snapped a mental picture and filed it under ‘hope.’
“Today was awesome.” You said walking toward the kitchen -- making a beeline to the fridge. “Everyone was really nice and we even got lunch. I met Jeremy who is another Team Lead and Andrea who works in HR. Both of them are from New York. Wegmans moved them down here.” You poured some juice, paused long enough to gulp down a half a glass.
“My Store is going to be bigger than the Dulles Store.” You said, putting the glass to your lips.
“My Store.” I teased.
“Yeah, its my store.” You meant it and I loved that you did. “It opens November 8th. The layout is reversed from Dulles. You know how the bakery is more to the right in Dulles. Well it is more to the left in Leesburg.” You drew the layout and explained it in excruciating detail for the next five minutes or so. You lost me after the bakery layout, but it was so much fun to see you so excited, I just smiled and nodded.
“Mom, are you getting this?” You asked. “I can tell that you’re not getting it. Just say so.”
“I do love you.” I said and you just laughed.
“What about benefits?” I asked.
“Yeah benefits should start the end of the month, sooner than I thought.”
“Wow.” I said. “You are magical. Do you think it is from the plan you put together for Think and Grow Rich? ” I loved your strategy not to give up. You had a plan and went with it even when I had doubts --- you knew it would happen. You allowed things to line up for you. And they did. You wanted a second chance to prove to yourself that you could be a good manager and an inspirational leader. And you got it. The chorus to Tom Petty's, Into the Great White Open, got stuck in my head, as I thought about you reaching for the great white open.
You shrugged your shoulders and said “I dunno.” Then I did bowed down to you like a student to his sensei until you started to laugh. By the time you laughed, the song got unstuck.
“Are they ok with you taking time off for your next round of chemo and going to Houston for scans on September?” I knew you said Julie, your manager said it was fine, but I was always a little scared something may go wrong. I may not be 007 with a license to kill, but I am your mom, with a license to worry.
“I’m in training now, so there is some flexibility. I start training at Dulles tomorrow at 8. I need to learn all the sections in bread so I’ll know everything about my bakery and be a better manager. “ You stared past me through to the back patio for a minute or so. "I want my team to know what to do without out me. So they can make decisions. You know Mom, teach them to fish.” You said.
“Just in case….” I trailed off. “The treatment doesn’t work.”
“No.” You said. “I’m going to be fine. I want my team to be.” You struggled for the word.
“Empowered.” I said.
“Yeah. Empowered.”
“You’ve got it all figured out.” I said smiling “Are you going to be the next Danny Wegman?”
“Maybe.” You looked up, thought about it for a minute then blurted. “Yes, yes I am.”
“Today was awesome.” You said walking toward the kitchen -- making a beeline to the fridge. “Everyone was really nice and we even got lunch. I met Jeremy who is another Team Lead and Andrea who works in HR. Both of them are from New York. Wegmans moved them down here.” You poured some juice, paused long enough to gulp down a half a glass.
“My Store is going to be bigger than the Dulles Store.” You said, putting the glass to your lips.
“My Store.” I teased.
“Yeah, its my store.” You meant it and I loved that you did. “It opens November 8th. The layout is reversed from Dulles. You know how the bakery is more to the right in Dulles. Well it is more to the left in Leesburg.” You drew the layout and explained it in excruciating detail for the next five minutes or so. You lost me after the bakery layout, but it was so much fun to see you so excited, I just smiled and nodded.
“Mom, are you getting this?” You asked. “I can tell that you’re not getting it. Just say so.”
“I do love you.” I said and you just laughed.
“What about benefits?” I asked.
“Yeah benefits should start the end of the month, sooner than I thought.”
“Wow.” I said. “You are magical. Do you think it is from the plan you put together for Think and Grow Rich? ” I loved your strategy not to give up. You had a plan and went with it even when I had doubts --- you knew it would happen. You allowed things to line up for you. And they did. You wanted a second chance to prove to yourself that you could be a good manager and an inspirational leader. And you got it. The chorus to Tom Petty's, Into the Great White Open, got stuck in my head, as I thought about you reaching for the great white open.
Into the great wide open,
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open,
A rebel without a clue
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open,
A rebel without a clue
You shrugged your shoulders and said “I dunno.” Then I did bowed down to you like a student to his sensei until you started to laugh. By the time you laughed, the song got unstuck.
“Are they ok with you taking time off for your next round of chemo and going to Houston for scans on September?” I knew you said Julie, your manager said it was fine, but I was always a little scared something may go wrong. I may not be 007 with a license to kill, but I am your mom, with a license to worry.
“I’m in training now, so there is some flexibility. I start training at Dulles tomorrow at 8. I need to learn all the sections in bread so I’ll know everything about my bakery and be a better manager. “ You stared past me through to the back patio for a minute or so. "I want my team to know what to do without out me. So they can make decisions. You know Mom, teach them to fish.” You said.
“Just in case….” I trailed off. “The treatment doesn’t work.”
“No.” You said. “I’m going to be fine. I want my team to be.” You struggled for the word.
“Empowered.” I said.
“Yeah. Empowered.”
“You’ve got it all figured out.” I said smiling “Are you going to be the next Danny Wegman?”
“Maybe.” You looked up, thought about it for a minute then blurted. “Yes, yes I am.”
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
D Day Minus 209 (August 11, 2009)
"I'm going to kill him even if the cancer doesn't." I said to Janiene as I cradled my cell against my right cheek while I walked aimlessly around the loop around the pond. "He can be such an ass."
"Why, what happened?" Janiene asked.
"I know he's not feeling well, but that's no excuse." Tears laced with mascara bled into my eyes making both of them sting like hell. Salt on an open wound popped into my mind as I tried not to totally lose it.
"WHAT HAPPENEND?" Janiene asked, this time in her annoying bossy voice, like she did when were kids.
"I took Katie and Greg to Mimi's Cafe to celebrate getting through his first round of treatment and starting at Wegmans on the 13th. Jeff was working late so it was just the three of us. Anyways it started when he threw a fit about me even asking to bring a bottle of water in his stupid assed white Scion. I had to hear him ranting about wanting to keep it nice and yada yada. Then when we got to Mimi's, I shut the door to his precious milk truck too hard and I had to hear about that. Dinner was miserable because of him and his stupid attitude. How did he get so anal?" I maybe took a half a breath and started up again.
"Greg knew I was upset, but he thought it was because he was run down and tired and had cancer. He's so stupid. I felt bad for Katie because she knew I was mad and felt stuck in the middle. I wish I everything could be about me for once." The words just came out in slow motion like when you shut the car door and notice the damn keys on the seat.
"Hold on." I said to Janiene, "I have a call coming in." I looked at caller id. "It's Greg."
"Do you need to go?" Janiene asked.
"No. I don't want to talk to him. He'll be fine. I just told him I needed to go for a walk and do something for me when I left the house. He's a big boy, he'll figure it out..... I'm never going back home." I said, my heart racing really fast. Someone drove by with their music blaring from a souped up Honda so all I got back from Janiene was. "Are you there? Did I lose you?"
"I'm here." I said fighting the urge to give the Honda the finger. "I told him I would never go on a road trip with him. Ever. EVER. I didn't really mean it. I would. Only I'd take my own car so I could go through drive throughs, have food and drink in the car, and not have to park out in frikkin Egypt." I sighed loud enough so I knew Janiene could hear. Then I breathed in for four counts and out for four.
"I get that he wants some control over this." I almost whispered.
"I'm sure he does." Janiene said.
"Did I do something wrong so Greg got cancer and Morgan was a cutter?" I thought I'd stopped thinking that, but I just said it. My toxic mouth was the reservoir and the dam broke.
"No." Janiene said. "You can get mad."
"I usually limit it to five minutes. But, I've been walking for an hour half and its nearly dark. And I don't want to go home. EVER. EVER. EVER." Then I started bawling like a baby.
I honestly didn't think about how you felt or whether you were going to be ok. And even though you tried to call again. I just kept on having my pity party with Janiene until Dad called . Then I started round two with him.
"You have to go home Nance." Dad said. "It's getting dark." I pouted and didn't say anything for about thirty seconds.
"But I said all those mean things about Greg to you and Janiene. I was just mad. And I know I didn't say them to him. But I thought them, which is just as bad." I said.
"Come on, you have to give yourself a break. Get your butt home." Dad said.
After I hung up I headed back to the house via the trail behind our house and almost stepped in some dog poop. "What else?" I muttered along with a few obscenities. Then I smiled when I realized that this was first time I had been mad at you in a long time. It was anger just the way it used to be without cancer looming in the background.
When I got home, Dad was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. He hugged me and told me I was stinky from walking, which I knew. You left Katie in your room and met me on the first landing of the stairs. I smiled a little, thankful you didn't hear my tirade. "Mom." You said. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah" I said, "But being stupid runs in the family." We hugged really hard. I started a mental inventory of all the things I appreciated about You, Dad, Morgan, Katie, and life. And how good it felt to get MAD.
"Why, what happened?" Janiene asked.
"I know he's not feeling well, but that's no excuse." Tears laced with mascara bled into my eyes making both of them sting like hell. Salt on an open wound popped into my mind as I tried not to totally lose it.
"WHAT HAPPENEND?" Janiene asked, this time in her annoying bossy voice, like she did when were kids.
"I took Katie and Greg to Mimi's Cafe to celebrate getting through his first round of treatment and starting at Wegmans on the 13th. Jeff was working late so it was just the three of us. Anyways it started when he threw a fit about me even asking to bring a bottle of water in his stupid assed white Scion. I had to hear him ranting about wanting to keep it nice and yada yada. Then when we got to Mimi's, I shut the door to his precious milk truck too hard and I had to hear about that. Dinner was miserable because of him and his stupid attitude. How did he get so anal?" I maybe took a half a breath and started up again.
"Greg knew I was upset, but he thought it was because he was run down and tired and had cancer. He's so stupid. I felt bad for Katie because she knew I was mad and felt stuck in the middle. I wish I everything could be about me for once." The words just came out in slow motion like when you shut the car door and notice the damn keys on the seat.
"Hold on." I said to Janiene, "I have a call coming in." I looked at caller id. "It's Greg."
"Do you need to go?" Janiene asked.
"No. I don't want to talk to him. He'll be fine. I just told him I needed to go for a walk and do something for me when I left the house. He's a big boy, he'll figure it out..... I'm never going back home." I said, my heart racing really fast. Someone drove by with their music blaring from a souped up Honda so all I got back from Janiene was. "Are you there? Did I lose you?"
"I'm here." I said fighting the urge to give the Honda the finger. "I told him I would never go on a road trip with him. Ever. EVER. I didn't really mean it. I would. Only I'd take my own car so I could go through drive throughs, have food and drink in the car, and not have to park out in frikkin Egypt." I sighed loud enough so I knew Janiene could hear. Then I breathed in for four counts and out for four.
"I get that he wants some control over this." I almost whispered.
"I'm sure he does." Janiene said.
"Did I do something wrong so Greg got cancer and Morgan was a cutter?" I thought I'd stopped thinking that, but I just said it. My toxic mouth was the reservoir and the dam broke.
"No." Janiene said. "You can get mad."
"I usually limit it to five minutes. But, I've been walking for an hour half and its nearly dark. And I don't want to go home. EVER. EVER. EVER." Then I started bawling like a baby.
I honestly didn't think about how you felt or whether you were going to be ok. And even though you tried to call again. I just kept on having my pity party with Janiene until Dad called . Then I started round two with him.
"You have to go home Nance." Dad said. "It's getting dark." I pouted and didn't say anything for about thirty seconds.
"But I said all those mean things about Greg to you and Janiene. I was just mad. And I know I didn't say them to him. But I thought them, which is just as bad." I said.
"Come on, you have to give yourself a break. Get your butt home." Dad said.
After I hung up I headed back to the house via the trail behind our house and almost stepped in some dog poop. "What else?" I muttered along with a few obscenities. Then I smiled when I realized that this was first time I had been mad at you in a long time. It was anger just the way it used to be without cancer looming in the background.
When I got home, Dad was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. He hugged me and told me I was stinky from walking, which I knew. You left Katie in your room and met me on the first landing of the stairs. I smiled a little, thankful you didn't hear my tirade. "Mom." You said. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah" I said, "But being stupid runs in the family." We hugged really hard. I started a mental inventory of all the things I appreciated about You, Dad, Morgan, Katie, and life. And how good it felt to get MAD.
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