Short Breaks 1-20 - Complete

Tired

Prompt: "tired": In 500 words (or 100 words if you prefer), tell what happens when something is tired.

Tired. Weary. Worn out. A description of the scene on my lawn covered with deflated Christmas blow-up characters. Inflated, Santa waved cheerily at Frosty across the yard, and Frosty lifted his hand in return, smiling at the special reindeer that would guide Santa's sleigh on the fateful night. Dotted in among them were other scene-specific items, such as presents, a sleigh, and even a gingerbread house. Their condition was an echo of how I felt. Tired. Weary. Worn out.

I sipped my coffee as I watched the snow drift down, knowing that soon it would all be covered in a blanket of white. I hit the switch to turn everything on, even though it was still only 8:30 AM, so that their internal heat would melt most of the snow, keeping them free and clear.

They slowly inflated, lights blinking cheerily, and I winced as I contemplated what our power bill would look like this month. This was our first Christmas season together as new homeowners, finally, after scrimping and saving for years to make it happen. I'd not wanted to go overboard, but my wife's holiday enthusiasm was infectious. It wasn't soon after Thanksgiving Day that I'd purchased said equipment and then spent the day humming Christmas music as I installed it all.

I sighed. Today was January 2nd, THE DAY(™) we'd chosen to start making calls to adoption agencies. As I poured another cup of coffee, I pushed down the disappointment of finally being told that my wife would never be able to get pregnant. We had debated long and hard about infertility treatments or adoption. Adoption, for many different reasons, won out. I'd taken the day off work so Susan and I could sit together at the kitchen table and make the calls together. Sipping, I heard a shriek from her from across the house.

"John! Wait!" she shouted. "Don't call yet!"

I scowled, not understanding. "What? Today's the day!" I quickly set my coffee aside as she came barreling down the hall toward me, all but leaping into my arms, laughing.

"We don't have to call, John!" she exclaimed, eyes wide and brimming with moisture. She held out a blue and white pen-shaped contraption to me.

My heart skipped a beat. After all these years, I knew a pregnancy test when I saw one. I studied it. In the window, I clearly saw what we had longed to see: a plus sign. My jaw dropped, and my eyes snapped up to my wife, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You're pregnant?"

She nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "I didn't want to say anything, but I'm three weeks late, John. I hoped, though."

And just like that, my tired, weary, worn-out life changed.