A Promise with Mom on the Way Home from the Hospital

The cherry blossom trees on the way home from the hospital were completely covered in green leaves.

The afternoon sun shone into the car.

The two children were holding Picola, straw-shaped chocolate snacks, in their mouths, sometimes eating them and sometimes stopping.

From the Picola in the two-year-old's hand reflected in the rearview mirror, melted chocolate was dripping down as a brown-stained liquid.

I no longer had the energy to say anything.

I just want to get home.

I can wash the child seat later.

I vowed that I would never buy these snacks again.

When I get home, I will make my wife make the same vow.

How many times have we, as a couple, made this vow now?

Some vows have been broken, while others have been kept.

Usually, it is my wife who forgets such things.

I am always the one who, as a result of faithfully keeping Mom's wishes,

"Are you still saying things like that?"

I am the one assigned to hear complaints like that.

My wife's cooking was always delicious.

More than that, I always wanted her to be gentle with me, but the laundry was always clean, the wallet was always managed without waste, and the children's events were always fully prepared.

Therefore, it is nothing for me to take our two children to the ENT clinic by myself.

I muster all my strength and speak.

"If you keep snacks in your mouth, you'll get cavities, so make sure you swallow them."

The children were so absorbed in Tom and Jerry that they didn't even answer.

I held back the urge to sigh and wished that the house would just come closer to the car.

I wonder what's for dinner tonight?

Everything felt like a hassle, so I decided to wait until tomorrow to make the promise with my wife about the Picola.

My wife's cooking is always delicious.

I'm sure it will be delicious today, too.

For tonight's drink, I'm going to have a Ledaig 10-year-old highball.

I've worked so hard, after all.

I'm going to have two glasses.

This is the kind of life I'm living every day.

I thought, forget about the vow to cut back on alcohol.

And so, unable to bring myself to blame my wife for anything, I narrowed my left eye and kept pressing on the accelerator.