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Entries in keys (2)


Maybe They've Had Enough

“Honey! Have you seen my keys?”

I loathe those words when they fly from the wifey’s mouth. I hear them all too often. And the word “keys” is an interchangeable word sometimes replaced with “phone,” “mind,” “other shoe,” and “purse.”

More times than I care to count, I’ve come home only to be greeted at the door by my wife’s keys hanging from the lock on the outside of the door. Yeah…the side of the door the entire world has access to. I’ve even found them early in the morning like that, which means they were dangling there all night giving anyone and everyone free access to our house, cars, and lives.

But then I think, what if my infamous words “oh, they just grew legs and walked off all by themselves huh?” where actually true? What if those keys just had “enough?”

I mean, in all reality, they share the same experiences as us, day-in and day-out. They’re snatched from their resting spot early in the morning, make the commute, sit at the work desk all day, drive home, make a quick stop at the store, experience the challenges of family life, and finally, when it’s the end of the day, settle in to relax before it all starts over again. And again.

Maybe they’ve had enough.

When all the lights are turned down for the final moment before slumber takes over, they poke their heads up for one last safety look. The beauty of being the keys is they have an all access pass.

Maybe they go for a drive and end up on some random bar, soaking in the alcohol from the air and listening to stories spewing from barstools filled souls.

Maybe they find their way to the top of the water tower—a place of solitude, where as their eyes survey all that lies before them, their minds wander, remembering, considering, projecting, and sometimes causing a smile. It’s a place where they’re comfortably aware that the slightest misstep could mean their life.

Maybe they slowly talk themselves into creeping into Home Depot, wandering the isles while deep down knowing the entire reason they’re there is to find the key cutting isle. The Mecca of un-carved flat metal pieces dangling hopelessly, unscathed of repeatedly being shoved into locks and pockets, thrown on desks and floors…living a life.

Maybe that’s always the last place they go. Maybe because the thought of erasing it all, starting over, being carved again from scratch is that sexy dream floating in their head—something fun to occasionally poke a stick at. But in reality, the scars, the repetition, the memories, each delicately carved notch is what makes them who they are.

And they crawl back home. Slide back into that familiar front door lock—their home. They take the risk of staying their all night, just so they can feel the warmth, security, and knowledge this IS where they belong. And, that they were one day carved, specifically to experience this. This time. This place. This family. This…

This life.


Earning Coins for the Bank of Nookie

“All right kids – you ready?”

“Daddy, we’re gonna miss it – lets’ go!!” my son screams with a tear literally creeping from his eye.

“Dude, we’re good. We’re gonna be early….let’s just go!”

Thirty minutes earlier the wifey had just left in one of our two cars to arrive early to my son’s elementary school. Tonight is the holiday play for  1st graders, starring none only than my little red-headed rock star. The wifey bit the bullet to volunteer as an usher so that we could be guaranteed front row seats. A kick-ass move, promising nothing but great vantage points for pictures and a stunning view of all the MILFy moms scrambling to get pictures of their littler ones on stage. I promise I wasn’t looking.

So I’m at the door, fumbling through my “key bowl” looking for the one and only key to the car. And…yeah, it’s not there. Despite my repeated request that the car key serve as a stand-alone key from the wifey’s massive key-ring of no return, so that it will be free for use by whoever needs it….it has yet to happen. As a result, she took the only key we have for the car she DIDN'T take. The one I need in order to get my child to the play he’s supposed to be in for which this entire night centers around.

“We’re gonna miss it daddy!!! I knew it. I knew we’d never make it and that I’d miss it after all this practicing,” the boy screams as he kicks make-believe mommies and daddies in the air, turns red-faced, and somewhere in his mind imagines blowing us all to pieces.

“Dude…I’m on it…have I ever let you down?” The little angel on my right shoulder immediately says, “yes…remember that time that…”

“Shut up bitch!” I scream at right shoulder angel.

My son’s still crying, my daughter couldn’t care less and is pumped to score more time playing with her Lil Pet Shop critters. Me? Well I do the natural thing and call the wifey on her cell phone.

Now…out of all our monthly expenditures, the wifey’s cell phone is by far the biggest waste of money. Why? Well that’s a damn fine question…because she never freakin’ answers it. There’s been times where I’ve been with her and she opens her phone, see’s she has 8 missed phone calls and 5 voicemails and she goes, “huh?” Like she's amazed 1) someone called her, and 2) she missed it. She’ll go to work without it. She’ll plug it in to charge while it’s fucking off. She’ll have it soooo buried in her purse that it’s such a pain to dig out that she’ll just hear it ring and give up in pre-exhaustion of trying to fish it out.

Long story short…after five calls…there’s no answer.

That’s when I feel a thought coming on and coming on strong.....And then it hits!

“I’ll call @momomatic!!,” I yell!

Her son’s in the exact same play my boy’s in and they live only a few blocks away. So I call, she answers, and they agree to pick us up! Score for me!!

Outside the boy is pacing up and down the sidewalk, mumbling, crying, informing the world there’s no possible way in hell we’ll make the play, we should have all listened to him and left hours ago, and everyone within earshot is mean.

“Grayson! Do you have a watch?”


“Do you know what time it is right now?”

“No Daddy!”

“Do you know what time your play starts?”

“DADDY!!!! No!!!”

“Then how in the name of all things SpongeBob, do you know that you’re going to be freakin’ late?”

“Cause…daddy!!! Cause it’s dark outside!!!”

We made it to the show with plenty of time to spare. My wife seated my daughter and I in our rock-star front row seats. As she handed us our program I said, “Oh…hey, before you leave…can I have the car key to the Nissan? I'd sure hate for you to leave me stranded at home without it!”

It took a sec to sink in, but when it did….I immediately deposited that “oh shit I fucked up” coin into the bank of nookie. Only 23 more coins and it’s go time!!!