interrupted

I channeled so much excitement into this one moment that I had to sit myself down on the couch for a good self talk before making the call. I had crafted the plan on the way home, rehearsing my words and envisioning the surprise and stuttering that would result in my absence. During those minutes of frenzied thinking, I discovered just what damage the teeth of a nervous - nay, eager - Nellie can inflict on defenseless thumbnails in their proper place at the absolute wrong time.

Someone important to me would break into smile before knowing exactly what had happened, and would scan the room wondering if just maybe I was there, settling instead for placing a long distance phone call of thanks, one vowing unavoidable and unexpected return of the favor. A smile would plant itself on my face for the remainder of the night. Beaming, I would know that my efforts would, when I least expected it, be exceeded.

But intent isn't everything, I realize in that spot on the couch where minutes before I sat with such anticipation. When the required players refuse their parts, the scene disintegrates quickly. It's 70 to zero in the blink of an emotional eye.

And so the surprise is shelved for another evening down the road, one on which I'm open to giving more than I receive, likely when I too least expect it.