Don’t jump out from behind a door

Screaming “Surprise”

Expecting me to react with unsurpassed

Joy.

It’s not going to happen.

Don’t plan a birthday party

A week before the actual date

Thinking I’ll appear with a huge smile

And clap my hands with joy.

It’s not going to happen.

Don’t wrap a fancy package with

Brightly colored ribbon topped with a bow

And drive all the way to my house

Knock on my door and

Think I’ll be dumbstruck with thanks.

It’s not going to happen.

Unlike some people I hate surprises.

No, I detest them

As I never know how to react

Or whether or not I’m expected

To reciprocate.

I’m stilted socially.

I didn’t grow up in a home

That taught or understood

Social niceties.

What to do when this or that happens.

I hate parties,

Not knowing what food to bring for sharing

Or what gift might please someone else

Or what to say to people I barely know.

I hate surprises unless its roses from my husband

Or a call from one of my grown children

Or a card from a friend

Or perhaps a gift of a prayer in time of need.

Put me in a room full with people

And I freeze.

My mind goes blank and I struggle to find

Something to talk about.

I drop into ‘teacher’ mode

posing questions as if to my students

listening to responses

while thinking of another question.

Don’t surprise me and expect

Gushing praise.

Don’t spring something on me

Thinking I’ll jump for joy.

Don’t hand me a gift

That I don’t expect

As I will feel guilty

For not having done the same for you.

To put it simply:

Don’t surprise me.