It was 1977 and I was alone with my young sons. Eleven years earlier, when I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and said, “I do”, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think my sweet, handsome husband would change his mind. Now I was alone and bewildered – and broke! The alimony and child support weren't enough to pay the mortgage and the meager salary I made covered the utility bills and a few groceries. I found pasta with sauce was and easy and cheap meal that we all liked. A few times each week wouldn't hurt us. Meatloaf was a good meal stretcher. A bit of ground beef with some spices, a few potatoes and a vegetable usually made two meals. Casseroles always found a way into our weekly menus. I made the meals work. However, at times, when my sons needed new shoes or jeans, a bill would have to slide until the next payday. All too often, I found myself behind. The few times when I called my ex to ask for help, he always replied that I should take extra child support from the alimony. To which I always replied, if it were that simple, I wouldn't be asking him for help. He never failed to remind me that I had custody and therefore the boys were my responsibility. Not wanting to keep borrowing from my parents, I felt there was no where left to turn. I found a second job which helped a bit more, not much more, but a little. Yet, no matter how desperate the situation, it never failed that I'd manage to find the 65 cents for a pack of cigarettes. A bad habit that started when I was sixteen and never considered stopping. I did, however, manage to cut my habit down to 20 cigarettes a-day, but I still smoked. It seemed that the predicament I was in, became easier to bear if I had a cigarette to rely on. Never once did I consider that the cost, as low as it was back then, took food away from my sons. That thought never crossed my mind, but it should have. Maybe I was selfish; maybe I was just so addicted to the nicotine that it clouded my thinking. Either way, I still smoked. My sons were 10 and 8 years old at the time. They knew things were tough since their father left and never asked for much. They were good kids, helping around the house as much as possible. Each had paper routes giving them the allowance that I couldn't afford. Often, they'd pool their money together and offer a “pizza night” for all three of us. As I said, they were good kids. Christmas was fast approaching that gave me another dilemma. What can I possibly give my sons who deserved so much and had so little? Back then, Sears, Roebuck & Co. had a “wish book” catalog filled with pictures of the latest toys for all ages. Handing them the book, I said they could one have one major gift each. I would borrow the money from my parents, but they would have their Christmas. They took the book, walked to their shared bedroom and closed the door. Approximately 45-mintues later, they left the bedroom and handed me the book. What they said next, shocked me and brought tears to my eyes. My older son did the talking. “Mom, we decided. There's just one thing we want.” “What's that?” I asked as I scanned the book looking on every page for their “X” s. “We talked it over and decided the only thing we want is for you to stop smoking.” I was stunned. Of all the things they could have chosen, that's was all they wanted. Without stopping to think, I retrieved the half-pack from the kitchen table and handed it to them. “Go in the bathroom and rip them to pieces. Flush them down the toilet and you have my word. I'll never smoke again.” We hugged for several minutes that seemed like hours and then, taking my half pack of Camels, they walked toward the bathroom. I called my mom and told her what happened. That weekend, my parents visited us and although my parents weren't wealthy, they still took my sons shopping. They did get one special gift from them along with a few smaller items but to this day, more than 40 years later, they both agree that the best gift was the promise I made and never once broke. It was also the best gift my children could have given me. Through the years, there were many words spoken, a few small promises made and eventually broken but I although I was tempted, I never once had another cigarette. Every time I was tempted, I thought of my sons. To have even one cigarette would be, in my mind, like taking back the only Christmas gift I could give them so many years ago, the only one they asked for, the one that meant so much to them. I just couldn't do it. That thought was almost foremost on my mind: it was the one promise they wanted and the one I could afford to give. It was that one solid promise that meant so much to them and me: the one solid promise that to this day, I never broke.