I'll endure it if I must

“Seriously Rachele? You’ve been like this since you were a child. I want. I must do it now. Goal oriented to the point where your father and I just gave up fighting and waved as you headed out the door. You returned eventually. Monaco. Tomorrow. You win another trip to some, admittedly very suave, location at the ass end of the world… Well Europe but look where that’s heading. Euro? The Brits got it right. Merging all those countries together was a bad idea from the start. One goes down the drain, they all follow after and clog up the pipes for the rest of us. That’s why I put my hard-earned money in the safe. OK. Your father’s hard-earned money. But that’s not the point. It’s perfectly secure. It’s one of those ones with biometrics. Helen’s still has a key. Can you imagine? I went around to her place with a sturdy hair pin, and my lock picking tools and had that thing open in 82.56 seconds. Helen can make her special brownies in the microwave in 90. All she kept in there was her will and 1930 penny. What does she have to leave? She gave her waste of space son the house because he needed it to open his medical practice and now she lives in a three bedroom two bath granny flat out the back. She can’t swim. Why would she need her own pool? Melanoma? If everyone in Australia went to her son and got their moles frozen off the country would come to a standstill, which is what you ask me to do with my life every time you win one of these bloody competitions. You don’t win something useful like a 72inch flatscreen, or a year’s supply of lamb. You win all expenses paid trips that interrupt my routine. ‘Come look after the kids again mum’. ‘It will only be two weeks mum’. ‘You know we have to tick every country on the planet off our bucket list’. What about my bucket list? At the top is not having to look after your children. I paid my dues to society, successfully reared another member with decent values. You let other cars merge. You say please and thank you when line up at the unemployment office. You share. Look at all these bloody holidays you’ve shared with me. You don’t take jobs from those in need, like Helen’s son. Instead, you spend your days entering competitions. Someone has to win. Why not you. I would think they would have black-listed you by now. I know you said it is your 25 words or less bit that gets you over the line, but how can anyone possibly be so concise? I would need 30 at least. Speaking of need. I need you to stop making me feel guilty. It’s a grandmother’s responsibility to look after the children? Not in the first world it isn’t. That’s why we have nannies and babysitters, but the competitions never include those. Do I look like I don’t have a life? Volunteering is a commitment. I need to be available day and night to help those poor mentally challenged people. What will they do it they lose their internet connection, and they are mid-way through an episode of Breaking Bad? Of course their children are too selfish to come at 2:30am, or too technologically challenged. I think it’s genetic. If it wasn’t for me there would be tears. Anxiety in the elderly population is deadly. More people die from anxiety than get hit by a bus on Tuesday. Speaking of anxiety. I have my bag permanently packed. It sits in the corner of the room and torments me. Rome. You know I don’t eat carbs. Desert doesn’t count. Istanbul. A transcontinental city? They should make up their minds before continental drift does it for them. The Maldives? Do you think being around all that water has a positive effect on my weak bladder? You two flit off to partake in all the adult oriented prize activities and never once include anything for your offspring. Who is left to deal with the little dears? Three. I told you to stop at one, but you didn’t listen. Two was fine. If the apocalypse happened you could have each carried one to the shelter, but three. Yes, you would miss them considering how long you spend traipsing around the world, but they seem perfectly fine without you. Me, not so. Staying in the swimming pool until they wrinkle while I finished my novel and fourth Piña Colada was peachy when they were toddlers. They were happy to go to the kids club for three days while I visited friends. Made friends. Entertained myself. It was even better when they were in their teens because after the fifth 'Death in the Afternoon', love the name, they could help me to my room and amuse themselves. I wouldn’t see them for days, but you did raise them to be independent. Now the three of them are in their twenties it’s all reversed. They try to keep track of me. It's maddening. One has a thing for the ladies. Yes, she is extremely good looking, but she is far too consumed with personality. By the time we head home they are barely holding hands. Long distance doesn’t work. Take your father for instance. He travelled for work. I said there is a perfectly good living to be made here. He said he liked to traipse around the planet. Alone. Something about getting a word in edgeways. I never really paid that much attention. Do you know how lonely I was? Good thing we had your uncle to keep me company. OK. He wasn’t your uncle, he was the postman, but he was always there for me. Reliable. The boys love me. They used to mutter things like mule this and suitcase compartments that and were constantly on edge. I’ve told you how dangerous anxiety is. I solved that problem. I told them about Muriel’s son who is a customs officer, and that he could wave them through. Anxiety gone.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The text.”

“Text?”

“'Volunteering went well. Customer satisfied. Time for you and family to lay low. Morocco. Contest flyer sent.’”

“You bypassed the encryption?”

“Industry standard. Your poison?”

“McMillan TAC-50.”

“Barrett M82A1.”

“Nice. International branch?”

“Yes. We had no idea. How long mum?”

“A long while. You?

“Since I was seventeen. I was approached. You didn’t even notice I was gone. That’s how I met Marco. The verbal diarrhoea?”

“What better way to get free time.”

“Uncle Fin?”

“Really the postman.”