Secret Memo

Why is a mystery that I'm in no hurry to solve.

The kids apparently got the memo. Not that I had anything to do with circulating it. In fact, I didn’t even know the memo existed, but on vacation this past week the thing happened that every parent who has ever worked themselves into exhaustion/resentment says will take hell to freeze over before it happens happened: the kids took the reins without me saying a word. They see what needs doing and do it. From meals to laundry to schlepping our stuff to the beach, many hands consistently made light work (and for me, often no work).

They are kind and solicitous. They indulge my evening enjoyment of sitting like a zombie and watching reruns of The Office. They steer me into the water when the surf is rough, and make sure I’m not the one carrying the heavier beach chairs. Am I terminally ill, and no one’s telling me? Wait, I don’t want to know, even though this has crossed my mind as I search for a logical explanation. I sincerely hope not, because this seamless cooperation would make for a long life I’d really enjoy.

Maybe someday I’ll get to the bottom of it. Some moment of collective epiphany, a secret text thread, a ringleader? But for now, mine is not to wonder why, but to go for that meandering bike ride, to finish that beach read. To take an afternoon nap (yes, that happened). To relax, not knowing how I got here, but knowing somehow, I have wound up in the best hands.