Trust Life

Trust Life
Barry Thomas Bechta

Part 1

I don't think that life is supposed to be like this. Really, is it supposed to be a struggle? Am I supposed to never have enough? Why do so many people around me seem to have more than I have? When will I ever have enough? What do I have to do God? Just tell me! Please I beg you to tell me! What have I done to deserve this? Am I not right in some way? I've done mostly good things. I've done some bad. Overall I am a good person. I really am a good person. Please help me!

Have you ever prayed? Really prayed as if your life depended upon it? As if you were never going to make it to tomorrow? Prayed with absolute faith and desperation? I mean prayed to a God you didn't fully believe in, but because of the pain you were feeling you hoped there was an outside chance? Prayed to a God whom never seemed to answer your prayers before, so why would it make a difference now? I have prayed that way. Today I am praying that way. But as I tell you this story it is not really today. Today was six months ago.

???

I have to get the kids up and going to school. Being a single mom isn't the easiest thing in the whole world. I get on. I have to get on. If I don't get on, nothing is going to get done.

My ex-husband, HA! That's a joke. He sees the kids maybe once every couple of months if they're lucky. Just because they are lucky to see him, doesn't mean I'm lucky they saw him.

It's like sending the kids to some kind of boot camp for candy. The kids come home miserable as sin. I doubt they get an hour's sleep all weekend. To top it off they are irritable as junkies coming down from their latest sugar fix.

Who am I to complain? I get a weekend off, right? If you call Saturday morning at ten until Sunday at noon a weekend, boy do I have some swamp land I want to sell you.

Don't even get me started on the money thing. That son of a gun doesn't even pay his support payments. Alright. He paid a couple of times. He loves his kids. He really does. He's just not reliable. He says he's going to call the kids, and then he doesn't. He says he's going to pick the kids up from school, and I get a call at work telling me they're still at school. Why the hell doesn't it ever change?

Listen to me rant and rave. I haven't even got the kids out of bed yet.

I walk into the bedroom and shake my son gently on the shoulder, "Aaron."

Aaron is my ten year old son. Sweetest thing you are ever going to meet. He's like his father. In the good ways that is. He's funny and hard working and he really does everything he can to help around the house. If it weren't for Aaron, I don't know what I'd do. And he's good with Sarah.

"Sarah. Morning sweety." I kiss Sarah on the forehead.

Sarah is a little fireball. I wish she would settle down at night quicker. She wants to stay up later than me. I got to work early. Once she's asleep, it's great.

THUS BEGINS THIS TALE OF MARTHA . . .

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Trust Life
Barry Thomas Bechta