Meltdown

I have to admit, I had a meltdown. Upon returning from a four-day absence from my house, I am always apprehensive. I never know what state I will find the place in, and considering my daughter had been there over the weekend and my brother-in-law and 6-year old nephew had come in the day before I got back....well, I was expecting the worse. Actually, the condition of the house was okay. I was surprised. But, of course, as I dug a little deeper, I began to unravel.

First, my dogs were not put in the right outdoor area. Two should have been in one yard, and two in another, but all four were together in the smallest yard. That meant they had less shade and less water per dog. It made no sense. Why would my husband deviate from our regular pattern. I called him and asked. "Because that's where I put them," he said. But that's not where they belong, I thought.

Next, the fourth kitchen chair was still out in the garage. I had asked him to brush it off and bring it back inside so we would have a complete set for our company. He forgot, he said.
Duh, I thought. You walked passed it for four days and never saw it?

Lastly, and the cause of the meltdown, was the food. He had grocery shopped. Bought a dozen muffins, three gallons of lemonade, pounds of lunch meat, loaves of bread. It looked like his whole large Cuban-Catholic family was coming for the week. And inside the refrigerator was
all the pasta with sausage and peppers I had cooked for him before I left, untouched and spoiling away five days later, along with five burned to a crisp, hockey-puck hamburgers he must have cooked on his own for his brother and nephew. I couldn't believe he had actually served them.
That was an ugly phone call. "Gee, welcome back," he said. "I can never trust you when I leave this house," I shouted, and I sobbed until he got home.

What was the real meltdown about? Was it really about those hockey-puck hamburgers? No,
of course not. The real reason is, as always so much deeper.

First, one year ago, my wonderful father went in for open heart surgery and never made it out of the hospital. I have missed him terribly ever since Father's Day. I remember making him his last home-cooked meal. I was on my way to his house the night before his surgery and he asked me to stop at, of all places, Taco Bell, and bring he and his wife quesadillas for dinner. I was appalled. I stopped at Food Lion instead and made him some of my own along with a healthy salad. He was having heart surgery, for God's sake. At that moment, I remembered with sadness that he was no longer married to my mother. My mother who never would have allowed fast food in her house. My mother who had cooked a meat and two vegetables and a dessert for my Dad for 42 wonderful years. My mother's legacy of being the ultimate homemaker, the best cook around, was no longer a part of my Dad's life. It was not important to him and wife #2. His second wife didn't care much about cooking and cleaning and keeping house, so he didn't either. (They had a wonderful 6 years together.) But I cared, so I cooked for them at what would be their last meal together at the house on the river, just this time last year.

So when I got home and the dogs weren't right, the chair was still out of place, the groceries were over bought, the pasta wasn't eaten, and there sat the hockey-pucks, all I could think of was how soon things go to hell in a hand-basket when I'm gone. I looked at those burnt hamburgers and thought of my mother and her legacy. How can one's work be forgotten like that. When you face the enemy that is cancer everyday and constantly wonder about the future, the previous statement suddenly carries so much weight, it can smother you. For 24 years, I have worked, kept house a certain way, bought groceries, cooked, made sure the dogs were happy.....all a certain way. It is how my house runs.... it has a heartbeat, a "feel" that I helped create and maintain. Pride in my home when guests are here...how I entertain them...how I cook, lay out the guest towels, turn down the beds just so, buy Katie her favorite crackers.....it is all part of how I do things and I don't want it forgotten. I don't want it all to go to pot in just four days. I want it kept up like I keep it up, now and always....whenever I go away...for fours days or an eternity. If you want to avoid the meltdown, that's easy. Please, honor me, remember me and remember how I keep my home.