Published August 2008, Chicken Soup Anthology
Dear Saint Peter,
I know you’re terribly busy at the pearly gates. Believe me when I say I’ve been to others first. I tried Saint Christopher, but my letter came back as addressee unknown. So I tried Saint Anthony but learned I had the wrong department; he only works on lost items. Although I did plead my case for “loss of mind” and “loss of youth”.
I’m told you are in charge of customer service and since I hate to bring my issue of dissatisfaction directly to the Big Guy, I thought perhaps you could shed some light on my situation.
I’m the one who asked for your help thirty years ago when I wanted a baby. You must have a lot of pull; we received five within seven years. Remember me now? I was the one who kept saying, “Enough already!”
We raised those five boys and kept them out of jail—most of the time, anyway. But here’s the situation: They have found other women, other lives, other homes. You had a Jewish mom, so you know how it is: They don’t call, they don’t write.
The problem is I’m lonesome. So I was thinking…
The second Tuesday of each month, could my home be filled again with those little boys running around wildly, jumping from couch to chair to footstool? To fill my life with their noise and music and fighting?
Oh. I forgot about the fighting.
Hmmm. Make that one day every other month. One day when they laugh and play and get in trouble at school or dent the car.
Oh, wait. Let’s catch our breath. Perhaps we should trim that back to two days a year. Just two little old days, days when they ask for money to buy…
Hold your horses there. How could I be so selfish? I forgot how busy you are and I’d hate to impose.
How ‘bout we just leave things as they are? I’ll simply learn to accept my quiet and clean house, my new car without dents. Instead, I’ll just focus on my poor wonderful life of peace and serenity. Meanwhile Pete, keep up the good work. And, God Bless.
Kathryn A. Begnaud