Page 27 of The Fix-Up

“You like dinosaurs?” Gil asked.

Oliver was obsessed with dinosaurs. Everyone told me he’d get over it and move on to something else. But he seemed to double down. He’d had three straight years of dinosaur-themed birthday parties. His favorite book was a giant encyclopedia of dinosaurs. All his pajamas had dinosaurs on them at his insistence.

Oliver nodded. “I love dinosaurs. I’m gonna go get my favorite dinosaur toy and show you.”

Before anyone could say another word, he took off, his feet pounding through the house.

“No running,” I yelled.

“’Kay.” The pounding stopped and then started up again, a little less loudly.

Gil stood up slowly and faced me. “Cute kid.”

“Yeah, he is. And he’s sweet and wants to be everyone’s friend,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

He held up a hand. “I get it.”

“Good.”

“Great.” Our eyes met and I got a wobbly sort of feeling in my stomach. Frowning, I looked away and crossed my arms; he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I guess I should give you the tour.” I’d spent time after Oliver went to bed last night tidying up as best I could, but I knew the house was…unique. I waved a hand around the room. “This is the kitchen.”

It was my favorite room in the house. Right out of a nineteen sixties design magazine, with lime-green Formica countertops, oak cabinets, and dark-green linoleum floors. You’d think since I spent so much time baking for the café, I’d be tired of kitchens by the time I got home, but all the best things happened in kitchens.

Families congregated, food was cooked and enjoyed, people talked and laughed, milestones were celebrated. At least that’show it had always been at my house growing up. In the kitchen, I’d felt one step ahead of the rest of my siblings. My brother could brag about winning a football game, my sisters about an art project or basketball game or grades, but me? I could brag about two things: drama club and baking.

I turned to ask Gil if he planned to cook a lot and found him standing in front of the wall above the little round kitchen table, arms crossed as he studied the wall.

“What is this?”

“Oh, that.” I moved next to him. “It’s something to keep me organized.”

It had been Sunny who suggested I might have ADHD and encouraged me to seek a diagnosis. That had been a huge step for me. And, let’s face it, it explained a lot. But a diagnosis was just that…it wasn’t a cure. So, Sunny helped me find ways to calm myself when the overwhelm overtook me. She helped me set up systems. Some of those failed spectacularly and some of them I’d adopted as part of my life.

This one had worked.

I’d used painter’s tape to create three connected boxes. One labeled TODAY, another said SOON and yet another said FUTURE. Each box held brightly colored sticky notes.

One task per note. The TODAY box was only allowed to have three notes at any given time. But the other two boxes were crowded with sticky notes upon sticky notes, hastily scribbled tasks I needed to complete. Things like all my hopeful house projects, a reminder to pay a bill or make a dentist appointment. But it was only the TODAY box I had to worry about. Three little notes I could do right now. When I cleared one off, I found another to replace it.

Today’s three notes:

Make two pies for church potluck tomorrow

Grocery list

Two loads of laundry

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