Control Z

She had barely made it through the day. The experience of training another new employee was still bitter in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She procrastinated the start of dinner despite the growling hunger pains beginning to announce themselves. 

The girl was sweet, she couldn’t take out the mounting frustrations on her. Trying to keep herself detached from the situation, she had repeated the same instructions that she had over the years as the sea of new employees flowed past her. Would this one follow the others to a higher paying position in a more congenial office? Perhaps her day of training was a mere stepping stone to a better life. On the other hand, as she constantly reminded herself, this one could be her own eventual replacement.

She exhaled a little. At least the day was over, and the evening stretched out without plans. There would be time to regroup before doing it all over again the following day.

It was quiet at home, too quiet with the kids grown and out of the house. The dogs had gotten older as well, their activities alternated between sleeping and looking out the huge windows. Joining them in the den, she settled into her recliner to rest before her hunger would demand preparation of dinner.

Pulling her blanket across her legs, she glanced at the fireplace. When was the last time she enjoyed a roaring fire? The warmth would be welcome, combating the chill she felt deep within her bones. Looking out at the snow covered yard, she studied the icicles hanging from the roof of the gazebo. Memories flooded back from long ago. The summer parties with chips and dip and melting ice cream had been set up for her children in that gazebo. Now the snow blanketed the yard like a bed made by Mother Nature herself. The lack of footprints in the snow proved the abandonment of her once magical sanctuary.

The depression that she had been pushing away all day started creeping in, the dark thoughts bringing with them the feelings of despair. There wasn’t much for her at home anymore with the visits from friends and family becoming less frequent.  She wondered what she had left. Where was her joy? The thoughts spiraled down into their familiar negative spaces. 

Sinking lower into the recliner, she closed her eyes trying to think of something to look forward to. What was even the point, she wondered. Working all day for what reason? Coming home to who? There was little to no incentive to get up each morning other than pushing through the day to return to sleep at night. Would this be her routine forever? Life had become a blur of wake and sleep day after day while her body aged and her mind became dull. Would it even matter if she decided to never get up from this chair? Maybe this was how her story ends. The fatigue was overwhelming along with the depression as she felt herself fighting to stay awake. She still had to feed the dogs, she realized, she couldn’t succumb to sleep quite yet.

A sudden knocking on her front door startled her, made her nervously jump upright with a pounding heart. Who would be showing up at this hour? She stood with the dogs running back and forth at her feet, barking nervously. Maybe one of her girls was in the neighborhood and decided to stop in as a surprise?  She opened the door hoping to see her daughter, and her stomach dropped at the sight of the police.

In a haze of confusion, she let the officers in while the dogs barked relentlessly. She was hardly able to hear the news, the terrible news, the unbearable news. She was dumbfounded, immediately grief stricken, horrified. The world known to her five minutes before had tilted, would never be the same. She was in a thick atmosphere unable to move or take in a breath. The worst news ever. How would she process this, live in this sudden new world she was thrust into? Her legs were heavy with her feet rooted to the floor. Her thoughts raced and then slowed down, becoming blank. It was impossible. Everything was fine five minutes ago, a perfect utopia. She tried to remember what she had been thinking. Why was she depressed, even despondent? How she would give anything to go back to that state, that time before this happened. She would find the joy, the happiness, the gratitude. Because this wouldn’t have just happened. This, which she would not recover from. This, which was beyond anything imaginable.

All in five minutes, that’s all it took. If she could go back a simple five minutes. How could she get back there? Control Z like on a computer keyboard to return things to how they were. She fell to her knees, leaning over, pounding her fists on the floor. Please let me go back. Please let me go back. Only five minutes ago life had been good. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, drip onto the hardwood floor making dark stains, puddles. Her throat was closing, her mouth dry. What in the world was so bad five minutes ago? Now she had this nightmare swallowing her, threatening to take her last possible breath in its intolerable pain.

The dogs were barking incessantly. Were they also in the well of despair she had been thrown into? Did they understand? As the barking grew louder, she felt a new wetness on her cheek, not quite the same as her flowing tears. Confused at this new puzzle piece, she fought for comprehension. She felt a weight on her body, jumping, moving, and heard the barking close by. Disorientated, she felt herself enter a new layer of rising up and out. She started fighting for her life. Anything but this, anything at all. The barking finally broke through, and she was able to pry open her wet sticky eyelids. Bewildered, she found herself in her recliner, the dogs all over her, barking in her face, covering her with wet slimy dog kisses. Was it possible? Did she go back five minutes? Did her control Z work? Fresh tears fell in rivers, tears of relief, of gratitude. She didn’t know what had happened, didn’t yet try to unravel the mystery. She stood. 

“Come on, boys. Who's hungry? How about dinner in front of the fireplace tonight?"