...to those who wait
There is a spiritual lesson here. Really. I just need to distill it.
Surely I was not the only child who owned an Oscar Meyer wiener whistle for less than thirty seconds. The 1960's version of the toy recall, the swooping mother, repo'ed mine before I had a chance to raise it to my lips.

Mom explained why. And as a middle-aged mother of six, I have now had decades to process and validate her actions. But don't think I didn't have some small hope of finding that whistle when my sister and I went through her jewelry drawer after her death. Or have hoped to chance upon one on eBay or at a rummage sale.

This morning,at work, when the wiener whistle was farthest from my mind, I answered the phone. It was Bridget, simultaneously chagrined and elated. Chagrined because her doctor's office called to cancel an appointment while she was in transit. Since she was up and running about on her day off, after a busy couple of days chasing dogs and promoting Michael Collins Whiskey, she ran into an Einstein's bagel shop to buy some breakfast. Her irritated revery broken by the sound of an Oscar Meyer wiener whistle. She followed the noises to the wiener wagon. And requested two whistles...on for her and one for me. When I least expected it. My call has come. I'm getting an Oscar Meyer wiener whistle.

In honor of my late mother, I shall do my best not to choke on it.