Surprise Package

by Linda Hudson Hoagland
(North Tazewell, Virginia)

Mother's Day was going to be just another Sunday as Sonny and I celebrate alone without the pleasure of seeing either my oldest son, Mike, who works for Food Lion and is scheduled to work on my special day, or my youngest son, Matt, who lives in Nebraska, half way across the country from our southwest Virginia home in Tazewell.

Matt hasn't been back home for a visit for almost five years and due to various reasons, I really don't expect to see him for another five years.

"Sonny, I'm going to cook a turkey for the two of us."

"How come?"

"To celebrate Mother's Day, of course."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," he replies sheepishly.

"I know, but don't worry about it. After all, you've always said that I'm not your mother," I add, trying to hide the hurt I am feeling deep inside.

"Now, I really feel bad about not doing anything for you. But, remember, I've been in the hospital for a week and I don't have any money," he says as he tries to come up with an excuse so I would forgive him.

I look at him and shrug as my mind tells me that it comes once a year, just like my birthday does each November. He has had a full year to get me a gift. I never forget him when his birthday and Father's Day comes along. Why does he always forget my special days of celebration?

I should be happy about not having to sit at his bedside in the hospital on Mother's Day. He has a serious heart condition that is making no effort whatsoever to get better or go away for that matter. Things could be worse, I guess. At least, that's the little bit of encouragement I always get from my coworkers. God knows I hate to hear that phrase repeated to me time and again.

"Forget about it, Sonny. I don't need a card or a gift. It's just a waste of time and money. We will eat our big dinner and have plenty of leftovers for the week," I say as I force a smile to crawl across my face.

Saturday afternoon is filled with watching the NASCAR race on television. Sonny is a big NASCAR fan whether it is the junior circuit called the Nationwide Race, the senior circuit known as the Sprint Cup, or the truck competition. It doesn't matter which one is showing, he will be watching it, or trying to, because he falls asleep at the drop of a hat.

The telephone rings and startles both of us.

"Mom?"

"Matt, is that you?" I ask because sometimes his voice sounds different when he uses his cell phone.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you guys doing?"

"Fine, Honey. It's great to hear your voice," I say as I ponder the early phone call. I really expected him to call me tomorrow.

"Mom, did you get your package?"

"What package?"

"The one I sent you for Mother's Day."

"No? Wait. I'll ask Sonny." I turn my head towards my husband and ask, "Did I get a package?"

"No," he responds as he tries to chase the sleepy sounds from his voice by clearing his throat.

"No, Matt, no package."

"Well, you need to open your front door and look outside. Your surprise package is on your porch."

I run to the door and fling it wide open to see my son, Matt, and his girlfriend, Becky, standing there waiting for the scream of pure joy that was going to be emitted from my heart passing onto the outside for all of the world to hear.

"Happy Mother's Day," Matt and Becky shout in unison.

"Oh, my God, Matt, Becky," I shout through the tears. "This is the best Mother's Day present I could ever want to have," I say as I throw my arms around Matt and Becky, my wandering children.

"Mike said he will be over as soon as he gets off work, Mom."

I will get to celebrate with both of my sons. Nothing could be better than that.

To this day, when I think about the surprise, joyful chills run up and down my spine, causing me to smile broadly and savor the moment of happiness, once again. It doesn't take much to make me happy. A real family gathering for a celebration will do the trick very nicely!