Nobody gets by unscathed, no matter how well maintained. We were meant to break, but we were meant to kindly build each other back up. That’s what my birthday was like, because my husband is my rock.
My family’s cars have been used and reused. They are in a constant state of repair. We have four. I know, it’s ridiculous. My husband’s day job is managing information and programs for a major air conditioning company. His night and weekend job? Maintaining our vehicles. My day job is managing my body and energy. My night and weekend job? Feeling guilty about my day job. I know, I have to get a better job.
Happy Birthday to me!…. For my birthday, my husband scheduled time for auto glass repair technicians to come to our home to replace windshields on the Honda and the Chrysler. Yes, for my birthday, on my birthday. It was one of the best presents I could have asked for. I had gotten so sick and tired of hearing myself nag to my husband about the cracks that go across both windshields. I have been nagging for a couple of years now. I can still hear my annoying, whining voice in my head, squawking about that windshield. I was equally annoyed by his continual retorts that it wouldn’t be worth it, because the vehicles probably wouldn’t make it through another Wisconsin winter anyway. So, should I wait until winter for it to crack apart and crash onto my lap? Call me crazy, but driving down the highway with thousands of cracked windshield cubes on my lap in subzero temperatures is not my idea of fun. I may be a Green Bay Packers fan, but not one of those crazy ones that wants their eyes frozen shut as they drive down the road. That would be very unsafe. So, after a couple of years of whining, he scheduled to have them repaired. On my birthday.
Happy Birthday to me!… The day before my birthday I took my migraine pills, cursed fibromyalgia, tested out a magnetic bracelet for pain relief, wondered how much of my fatigue was a part of cancer treatment recovery, slept away the day and held my breath to see if the windshield fairy truly would come. By day, my husband Mike was working and making meals. By night, he had pulled the Honda into the garage to make another dream come true; Mike would fix the brakes on the Honda so that our son can drive to a new high school, out of our district, to pursue the educational experience he dreams of. Meanwhile, Jake, our son, drove the Focus back and forth to the city for auto parts.
It was 8:20 p.m. when I woke up to Mike saying that he had to leave. Jake had been in a car accident and that Jake said he was alright. He had been hit while turning by the auto parts store. Knowing that Jake was alright and that Mike was there for him, I decided to stay in bed and rode the struggle bus with my headache and nausea. Texting and waiting to be texted, I worried. Somehow, they still had managed to get the parts for the brakes before the store closed at 9:00 p.m.. The guys got home safely and I convinced my husband to wait until morning to get the Focus towed home. He had had a long enough day.
The next day was my birthday. I felt a little better. Slow, but steady. I ate. Mike took the Honda with its new brake drums to meet up with the tow truck driver and the Focus in the city. As rain sprinkled through a sunny sky, the windshield fairies arrived in my driveway, prepared their work area and tools, then swiftly got to work.
Windshield fairies don’t do brakes, which is unfortunate. Although Mike had fixed the brakes on the Honda, he had to drive home with only the emergency brake. He had done a fine job of fixing the brake drums, but the fix had fixed so well that the increased pressure broke the rusty brake lines. Mike made it home safely to our driveway where the two grown fairies stood with their work truck for an extra hour. Patient and kind were they.
Two broken cars, a tow truck and Mike made it back home safe and sound. And the magical auto glass specialists were there ready to make our road views anew. After they had fluttered around and buzzed on their cell phones for an extra hour in wait to once again work their magic on another windshield, we filled the garage with the Honda, that apart from the broken windshield we thought had been fine that morning. The tow truck crane gently took the smashed car to a second rate spot on the lawn. Sweeping into the garage, the windshield fairies once again worked their magic. Mike gave the fairies an extra treat for being so kind to stick around and work their magic on the second windshield. Everyone was safe, sound, sick of cars. Well, Mike and I were anyway. Happy Birthday to me!
It still being my birthday, I rested on the couch. But, my son wanted to do something to make my day special. Bless his heart. We all sat outside in the sun at my favorite restaurant. I had a Dr. Pepper with my favorite meal. Soda is like poison for your body, yet I felt compelled to reward myself with some. A very old lady said that her secret to living to an old age was having a Dr. Pepper everyday. It doesn’t really extend your life. We capped off the day around a campfire with family and drove safely home. Happy Birthday to me!…
Within only days, there have been a couple of trips back to the automotive store and my husband has worked his own magic on restoring the brakeline. Our son’s dream of taking the Honda to his new school has come true.
And… now we are onto the body of the Focus.
Life, it’s chronic.
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