Worth The Wait

First 5 pages of Worth The Wait

INTRODUCTION
I don't know if I'm going to make it. I don't know that I am cut out for this life. Every day is a struggle and I am trying my hardest to say positive for Sam. Who is Sam? Sam is my son, and the only reason why I get up every day. He swears that I am the best at everything, but isn't that what all kids think of their parents? Ugg. I just want to be good for him. He doesn't deserve these mood swings. These outbursts of anger. He is only eight years old and no eight-year-old child is equipped to deal with this. I put on this smile, for him. I engage in daily life, for him. I pretend to like people, for him. Everything is for Sam. Now as I lay here in the darkness of this bedroom trying to get up and start this perpetual day, I fear that this is the day I finally crack.

CHAPTER 1
Today started just like every other day before. The alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m., but I lay in bed with the curtains drawn until 6:45 a.m. I slowly roll over and throw my legs over the side of the bed to put my feet into my slippers. I stare into the darkness of the room, take a deep breath, and push myself to my feet. I shuffle over to my blackout curtains and push them open. I squint into the sunrise coming up between the two huge birch trees just outside the storage shed attached to the house. This time of year, when the sun rises between the trees, it looks like a picture. I seem to always think, I need to take an actual photo of this, but I never do. I take a deep breath and take my eyes away from the only peace I'll have all day. I walk over to the bedroom door and take my robe down that sits on a hook behind it. I put my robe on and place one hand on the door handle and the other on the back of the door and rest my head on it. Another deep breath. I open the door and walk down the hallway to Sam's room. Upon opening his door, I walk over to his bed. Before I wake him up, I look around his room and smirk to myself. He has picked out everything décor wise in his room. There are dinosaurs on the wall next to zebras and monkeys. Yes, nothing matches, but it all matches Sam. One thing for sure about Sam: he is the sweetest boy, but he could cause World War 3 if you messed with anyone he loved.
I kiss his forehead and say in a low voice, "Hey little monkey, it's time to get up."
He stirs a little and in his typical fashion, he opens those big brown eyes and says, "Hi mommy, I like your hair."
This causes me to run my hand through my hair and realize my hair is standing on end. I roll my eyes and we both laugh. I tickle him until he concedes and jumps out of the bed and runs to the closet.
"Get dressed little man!"
"Okay, Okay! Can we have pancakes?" He's running around, still out of breath.

"That depends on you, Buddy. Make sure that you brush your teeth and come and meet me in the kitchen," I tell him as I walk away.
"Okay Mom, I know," he says with a sigh.
He wants to do everything by himself, but old habits die hard.
The school bus comes at 7:45 a.m., so time is of the essence. I walk into the kitchen and get the pancakes started. All the while I hear Sam piddling upstairs and making his way to the stairs. Clomp, Clomp, Clomp. How can one child sound like a herd of elephants? He makes his way to the kitchen and sits on his favorite stool at the breakfast bar. Twisting side to side on the stool Sam starts talking, "Hey mom guess what?"
"What, Buddy" I put his pancakes on his plate in front of him.
He takes a bite, "We are making clay pots today! Mr. Stevens said that I can work with Eric today too!"
His smile is so big at this point that syrup is now rolling down his chin!
"C'mon Sam! You're going to get syrup on your shirt!" I say, hurrying to get him a napkin. "That sounds fun Sam, but please make sure that you pay attention. I know that Eric is your friend, but he is a talker."
I look at him sternly while getting his bookbag and jacket ready. Sam eats one more bite and runs to grab his Superman lunchbox out of the refrigerator. He comes over and puts his head on my stomach and hugs me. "I love you Mom." He tells me quietly.
I know that he knows I'm not happy, especially when he leaves. I put on my best "I'm fine" voice and say "I love you too, Buddy! I can't wait to see that clay pot!"
He looks up at me excitedly.
"Your pot is going to be the best pot! Maybe we can even put a flower in it!" He's bouncing from foot to foot.

"Ohhh, that sounds like a great idea!" I kiss his forehead. "C'mon Bud. Here is your bookbag and jacket and make sure that you keep your jacket on when you go outside!"
He takes off running toward the door, "Okay mom, I will." I watch him as he runs down our drive to the edge of the street just in time for the bus to pull up. He steps up on the first step of the bus and turns and waves one more time. I wave back and blow him a kiss. As the bus pulls away, I close the door. I take another deep breath then walk back to the kitchen to make some coffee and get ready for the day. Being left alone with these thoughts every day is exhausting.

CHAPTER 2
Before Sam was born, I was happy. I had the life everyone wanted. I did everything right. I graduated college. Met the love of my life. Got married. Had a baby. Then life as I knew it went upside down.
My name is Emily Thompson. I am a 28-year-old widow. My late husband was Samuel Thompson. We met freshman year in college and hit it off right off the bat. Samuel, or Sam as we called him, was the most beautiful soul I have ever met. He was tall, olive skin, light-brown hair with hazel eyes and a smile that would light up a room. His laugh. God, I miss his laugh. He could tell the corniest joke, but you couldn't help but to laugh when he did. We met by complete accident. I was running late to my first class (literally running) and smacked into him as he was trying to get out of my way. We both fell to the ground. My bag that doubles as a purse and book bag went sliding across the sidewalk straight into a mud patch. He gets up first and extends his hand to help me up. I reach out to the hand before me and look up. We lock eyes and his hazel eyes meet mine and it was "that moment." You know the one that you always read about in books but know that it doesn't really exist. Yeah, that one. I was silent for a good two minutes while he stood and smiled at me. He then asks, "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"
I smile dumbly, "Um . . . I don't think so. I seemed to have lost my bag though." While slowly looking around. I spot my bag in the mud and groan, "Aww man . . ." I walk over and pick it up out of the mud. "Ewwww. I guess this is how my day is going to go today," I say with a sigh.
He looks at me and smiles. "It will be okay. It has to get better, right?" as he shrugs his shoulders.
I smile a little. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm Emily by the way."