'cause I'm not really anonymous anymore, if ever, since all my posts have "posted by Stephen."

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

*My* BooBoo Fixer

My mom tells a story about when I was in kindergarten. Apparently, I had fallen off of the jungle gym during recess and had a huge gash on my forehead. My teacher had managed to stop the bleeding while we waited for my mom. All that was left was a big knot on my forehead. Once my mom stepped foot into the room, she says that I began to ball. A little frazzled, my teacher tried to explain to my mom that I hadn't cried once until she got there.

That's the way I've always viewed my mom, I guess--the nurturer, the fixer of messes, the rock in my life, the right of all wrong, the one that will make everything better.

Well, it happened again this past Monday. The day had just been horrible. Nothing seemed to go right. Among things I won't go into, my eye was swollen for most of the morning. Apparently, I had scratched the white of my eye with my fingernail when I had rubbed it. With that, the white of my eye was literally swollen and red, which made my whole eye puffy. I had to sit through our Monday morning sales meeting looking like this. On top of being embarrassed, work was hella stressful and busy. Overwhelmed and stress, I left work feeling like nothing had gone right. On my way home, I remembered that my mom had called during the day, but I couldn't talk due to being so busy. As I dialed, I just told myself to chalk the day to a bad day and go for a good run when I got home. Within a few seconds of the conversation, I could feel the tears welling up. I could no longer keep them inside. As I answered a question she had asked, my voice quivered from a tear.

"What's wrong, baby?"
"I dunno...today was just horrible. ..."


As I went into the events of the day, the tears freely flowed. I didn't care that I was in the middle of rush hour traffic on I-75.

"Do you want me to come down there?"
"Oh, no...I'll be fine. I just need to go for a run."
"Don't you think you should just go home and rest?"
"No, running will make me feel better."
"Oh, if it will, then ok. Are you sure you're ok?"
"Yes...thank you."
"I Love You, baby..."
"I know...I love you, too. I'll be fine."
"Call me if you need to later, ok? I'll be here all night."


With that, I assured her that I was ok. That it was just a bad day.

So, once again, just talking to her on the phone made me that vulnerable little boy sitting with a knot on my head in my kindergarten classroom...