Every word was a promise when the children were small. Every “Maybe,” “We’ll see,” “We’ll have to ask your Dad.” Every “I’ll try,” or “I’ll do my best.” And even every “No,” misheard as “Yes.”
“But Mommy, you promised!”
Their father was big on promises too. Phone-calls forgotten, floors un-swept, jobs she never applied for, all were pledges un-kept. The empty milk-carton in the fridge was proof she could never be trusted.
In weary work and jobs unfinished, unstarted, she longed for sleep. “But I have promises to keep,” said the voice in her head as hope freed her heart.