vacation
Sitting in my soft, fluffy hotel bed, with one son to my right and the other on speakerphone pacing the hotel hallways outside the room, I felt the too familiar tears of recent days falling down my cheek. As the two of them argued about which one could sleep on the pull-out sofa bed in the separate room, I felt myself caving in. Again. Neither wanted to sleep in the queen bed that would be in the shared bedroom with me. They each preferred sleeping on a thin pull-out mattress with bars cutting across their back than to sleep in their own soft, fluffy queen-sized bed next to me in mine.
As I tried to mediate a compromise, neither was happy with anything I’d say. I told them what a luxury this room was. A one-bedroom suite with a full-sized kitchen in a higher end hotel with all the amenities. I worked so hard to make the money for such a treat and was sharing it with them. And yet, the 14-year-old was miserable and wanted to go home, and the 23-year-old, who was trying very hard to make it nice, felt cheated to be asked to give up his separate, private space.
I heard myself telling them, “This is a really nice room and costs a lot of money. I don’t understand why you can’t appreciate this. I can’t afford to buy 3 separate hotel rooms to make you all happy. Next time, I’ll save money and have all three if us in one room so this never happens again.”
“How do you think this feels that no one wants to share a room with me?” My tears flowing, neither acquiesced. Back to my desperate low, the abyss grief had taken me to since my mom had died on Christmas morning.
My desperate hope for a turn in tide had put too much pressure on this vacation attempt to a cold place in the middle of winter. Hurdle after hurdle expensively overcome, and finally here I was in a lovely hotel room. With my two kids fighting over not sharing a room with me. Seemingly not valuing or appreciating this hard-earned luxury I was creating and giving to them. Lost in their own selfish wants at that moment, not hearing how this was hurting me, despite my telling them.
I supposed they were tired of their grieving mom crying for 2 months since her Mom died. Perhaps wanting to escape to their own lives and friendships.
And still I wondered, how had my life taken me here? Two kids so used to coming before me that they couldn’t pull it together to help me have a much deserved and needed vacation. A former husband back in my home sleeping on our former shared couch watching our cats and my Netflix. How had I allowed my my life to be taken here?
The next day as we packed up and moved out of the room two days earlier than planned, I looked back at the slept in bed with a sea of inviting white blankets and extra pillows and wished forward for another stay in a beautiful place with the companionship of someone who really wants to be there with me.
