My kids are sick today. Our home is hushed. We are entering the third day of this unexpected flu bug. I am bombarded with emotions. Lying still like little ragamuffin dolls; limp and lifeless, Jordan and Maddi look at me with sad eyes, droopy expressions, and cherry-red cheeks. They call my name with whispered breathing. It is a helpless feeling as a mom to not have any magical solutions, any fancy remedies, nor any way to make it better.
My own mother has been a godsend balancing my children with me. We have spent much of the past two days holding and hugging warm little bodies. My mind circles with the question, “what would I do if she weren’t here?” while at the same time pondering, “what would I do if Shawn were here?” Somehow his presence seems to make me believe everything would be ok; instead of dismal and devastating. It is more than just my kids being sick. It is having to take care of them without Shawn that adds hurt to my heart. As soon as I think I am well, there is another passage of heartache to pass through, another raw layer to make me wonder if I ever will be “well” again.
I am having such a bad day. The neighbor’s sprinkler system runs like clock work. I don’t even know how to turn our system on. The neighbor’s grass gets watered while my children run temps of 103 degrees and I am wishing for their dad to walk through these times of sickness not just health with me. I am sitting here crying and not understanding how something as little as grass can break me.
A good friend of mine visited last night to sit with me and my kids. She listened and talked and listened and talked. When she left, my spirit was lightened. I thought about how one little visit can feel so comforting. Opposite of the grass, I am in awe of how something as little as a visit can mend me.