I met myself for lunch today. What an odd surprise.
On this first day of school, I’d planned to celebrate a quiet house after a whirlwind summer. But as the boys packed last night for school’s start, they began with their last-minute requests.
“Mom, I still need:
· Washable markers – the smelly ones, ple-e-ease;
· Three plastic folders – the paper ones just rip;
· More no-show socks – Isaac keeps taking mine;
· A new memory stick – my old one’s full;
· Three colored folders – small enough for my trapper keeper. Make it six. I’ll need three more second semester.”
The list grew so long that I was still shopping near noon. I’d just left Walgreens, pleased that I’d finally found heavy-plastic folders and elated when they rang up on sale. “Really?” I asked the clerk. “Hold on. I’ll take three more.”
I still had to grocery shop, but decided to lunch first. Wendy’s Old-Fashioned Hamburgers was close. No sons whined, “Drive-through! Let’s just go home.” Today I was alone. I went inside for my old standby.
At a small table by the window, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled and gave thanks: “Oh, for this moment’s peace.” Then, I mashed my baked potato, squeezed in sour cream, scooped on chili, cut off small portions and savored every bite. With the last spoonful, I looked across the room and noticed a young mom eating with three small children. She called to the oldest, “Isaac, will you pick that up, please?”
Isaac? Hearing my oldest son’s name made me see. This mom had three boys: Isaac, the oldest, was about six years old; the middle one was about four; and youngest wasn’t yet a year. The baby and his oldest brother were very blond. The middle son was a darker blond. Mom was a brunette.
“Is it really 2010?” I whispered. Then I thought, “Could this be 2001? Am I glimpsing myself with my own three sons at those ages?”
The family soon left, but their presence lingered. I recalled a moment sitting at that table in front of the elevated TV screen. In between helping the boys with their meals, I'd wondered about the future – when Isaac would have his driver’s license, Aaron would start high school and my baby would be well into grade school. Back then, I thought: “Don’t wish time away.”
Here now today, Isaac – a licensed driver of one week – hopped into the car with Aaron and drove away for early-morning high-school band. Noah – at nearly 10-years-old and just shy of five-feet-tall – started fourth grade. And, how weird that I – Wendy – am sitting in Wendy’s having this flashback when I’d planned to celebrate a quiet house. Forget the whirlwind summer. What is this Wendy’s Flashback? “Reverse” Déjà Vu?
Be careful what you wonder. Be careful about long shopping lists. Be careful about old haunts. They might haunt you too.
