Hopeful

I'm excited, but also don't want to get my hopes up.

My stepdad quit smoking and chewing, cold turkey, 34 days ago.

My mom told me today she is going to quit starting Saturday.

I have been begging her to quit since I can remember. She has been smoking since she was 14 years old. She smoked through her pregnancies. I don't remember a time of her not smoking.

When I was really little, I used to ask her to stop smoking for a Christmas present for me. I told her that could be my Christmas present for life, if she would stop smoking. I was really little.

As I got older, started working and bringing home a decent paycheck, I offered to pay for any assistance in helping her quit. I didn't care what it was, how much and for how long...it was worth it to me.

She would never do it.

So needless to say, I am excited.

Her obstacle will be that she doesn't work. She stays at home all day. She doesn't have a car during the day because my stepdad has one and my sister has the other. Other than clean the house (which pretty much stays clean) and do yard work (but now it's getting cold), she doesn't have much to occupy her time.

So I'm hopeful. I'm excited of being able to go visit and not feel nauseous from the smell of smoke. I'm excited that my suitcase, all of my clothes, and me, will not reek of smoke as I leave. Most of all, I'm excited that her health may improve if she takes this opportunity to start taking care of herself.

I'm excited, I'm hopeful. But I'm not holding my breath.