Page 25 of Shattered Dreams

I shouldn’t have left all those years ago, but I can’t change that now. It’s time to focus on the future.

When I entered the house, I could hear the TV but nothing else. Walking through the kitchen into the living room, I saw all three boys asleep and my dad snoozing in his favorite spot on the couch.

I jogged through and up the stairs to my room. It was time to shower, shave my legs, and get everything ready for tonight.

Briar and Emma slept through my grooming session, allowing me ample time to do something with my hair.

I added a little mascara and a touch of lip-gloss before donning my favorite jean shorts and sleeveless plaid shirt. Turning this way and that, I scrutinized the reflection in the mirror.

I’m not as skinny as I was in high school, but right now I felt pretty.

When’s the last time you felt pretty?I frowned in the mirror at the words my brain felt the need to ask.

“Too damn long.”

“What’s too damn long, mama?” Harrison came up and ducked under my arm.

“Don’t say that word.” I looked down into his chubby face, with his glasses on crooked.

“You did.”

I frowned at my son. “I know. But it’s an adult word, and I want you to choose better words.”

“You look pretty.” He smiled up at me.

“Thanks.” I cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his nose.

“Where ya’ goin’?”

“We’re going to the fair, baby.” As the words left my mouth, I watched amazement flow across his face.

“Really?” His eyes were round saucers.

“Really.”

He whooped and ran downstairs to wake his brothers up. Their collective celebration woke the girls up and I went into our room to soothe them.

When was the last time the kids were able to be excited without being told to shut up?

“Boys ‘creamin!” Briar covered her ears.

“I know. They’re excited to go to the fair tonight.”

“We go too?” She pointed at herself.

“We’re all going.” I bent over the crib and lifted Emma out. “Even you, little miss.”

She yawned in my face and then put her head on my shoulder.

Briar went over to the closet and pulled something out, bringing it to me. “Dis un.”

My daughter chose a full skirted princess dress to go to a carnival. “Briar, let’s find shorts …”

“No! No! No!”

“Pinsess.” She slammed her hand on her chest.

Pick your battles, mama.

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