My Two Minute Vacation

One of my favorite treats is a tall glass of diet soda with crushed ice and a few generous wedges of lemon dancing at the top. I squeeze as much pulp out of the sunny slices as I can, and watch the bubbles ricochet off the lemon bits as they come up to the surface of the liquid. The tart, rich taste of lemon transports me instantaneously to a forever blue-skied land where there are no dirty dishes, and where the sun gently warms my skin…

But you can’t serve lemons for dinner. So when I hit the grocery store every Thursday night, it’s not the yellow citrus I go for; I choose the green beans. They’re a favorite at my house, and they are full of the good stuff my three growing kids need. “One day,” I keep telling myself, “one day I will spend the money for some nice, plump lemons.” Not that I don’t have it to spend; I simply yield to that not-quite-definable guilty feeling that hits us moms when we dare to think about what we might want. For now, I choose the green beans.

One Thursday last winter, my sixteen year old daughter had the evening off from her new job, and we decided to have a night out together—just the girls. I grabbed my old coat, kissed my husband good-bye, and off we were on our adventure. But duty always calls first, so we started out with a quick trip to the grocery store to replenish our endlessly starving refrigerator. We went through the produce department to buy the obligatory green beans. I quickly stole a glance at the lemons. They immediately began to tantalize me, but years of Thursday nights have taught me well how to resist; I dutifully walked away.

My daughter and I quickly shopped for the other items on my list and wheeled the cart to the check-out line. While waiting in line, I casually glanced in the cart of the person waiting in front of me--it was topped with a big bag of plump, yellow lemons!

I looked up at the owner of the sunny treasures. About my age, she had the beginnings of life-lines around her lovely eyes, and wore a thick fur coat and fancy high-heel boots. She must have sensed my stare, for she met my gaze and we made eye contact. She smiled.

I attempted to count the plethora of lemons discreetly; at least twelve of them in that big bag. What could she possibly be planning to do with so many of them, all at once? Maybe she had a bowl on her dining room table reserved just for lemons, and she replenished it once a week. Or maybe she was having a dinner party tomorrow night, and the lemons were needed for the caviar. Or maybe she was just like me, having discovered the unspoken secret of lemons, the almost supernatural virtue lodged somewhere between the rind and the seeds, and she simply needed a large amount of relief tonight, a promise of a tomorrow bursting with sun and freedom from pressure. I smiled back.

But twelve of them, all at once? I glanced in my own cart, overflowing with practical items and green beans… Couldn’t I have just a little share of her treasure?

“One day,” I thought, visualizing myself holding a drink full of lemon slices and crushed ice with little bubbles popping up to the top. In a splendid swimming pool surrounded by gorgeous gardens, palm trees and soft music, my tanned and all-of-a-sudden fifteen pounds lighter body was luxuriously sprawled on a colorful float. With no kids anywhere in sight.

“But not today.” I willed myself back to the grocery store on that cold winter Thursday night.

“What did you say?” my daughter asked. My heart fell--had I thought aloud? How much had I said? Our special night out, just for the two of us, and I was fantasizing about another life where she was not included. Guilt pushed against my chest. I shrugged my shoulders and jokingly made light of myself, telling her of my weekly choice of green beans over lemons. We laughed it off as I paid for the green beans and other practical items in my cart.

When I came home from work the next Friday, a large envelope laid on the kitchen table with “MOM” written on it and a big smiley face--my daughter’s trademark. Smiling, I carefully ripped it open at the top. Three dollar bills and a folded paper fell out on the table.

I unfolded the note and read, “My first paycheck ever today! (Smiley face) Go buy yourself a couple of lemons and a bottle of diet soda, Mom.” Tears began to cloud my vision. “Enjoy your two-minute vacation. And thanks for all the green beans.”