Monday, 12 June 2006

The wish jar reappears.

It went missing just before Mother's Day and no one would claim responsibility. Until now.

Don't pinch me. Again, I will hurt you if you even pretend.

Today is our Sunday. A lazy fun day, a few chores and mostly a pretend weekend, because weekends are so busy in the life of a minister's family. That's right. It's sounding way more comfortable. Ownership of this life of mine.

So Jacob went out to get bagels. A ritual, they have to be fresh, he is addicted to this Monday routine. And he was gone for an hour and a bit. That happens a lot-he talks his way through the neighborhood. We had some juice and started schoolwork.

He comes back with bagels, croissants, coffee, hot chocolate and a large envelope full of
paperwork. And an anticipatory smile. It threw me off.

Open it.

Oh, do you have to work today?

Just open it, Bridge.

What a strange smile. Brochures fall out. And itineraries. Receipts.

Happy belated birthday.

What is this?

This is your summer vacation.

I spied the destination before he said it. Essaouira. For four people. Two adults, two children. In August.

Oh my God. There's a mini-trip to Casablanca in there.

He doesn't forget a thing. It's unbelievable. He knew I wanted to go there years ago when he went off to Tibet and Bangkok for a trip and I almost cried. Then again he went to Peru (for the second time). Then Chile. Then Spain. He's been everywhere. I have been almost nowhere.

He's not finished.

Keep looking.

What's with all the Tortola stuff?

Christmas. If you want.

Not very many people can render me speechless. He handed me back the now empty wish jar.

I have no use for it now.