This morning, I rose, packed lunches, prepared breakfast, readied, put together backpacks. Drove to school. We listened to Galactic in the car, and encountered a great deal of traffic. We purchased a copy of The Contributor from our regular vendor at 440 and Murphy Road.
I parked the car. The boy, who has been trying to get rid of this cold since 10 days ago, coughed a cough that made me tune into my mother wisdom (better late than not at all,) turn around and go straight to the pediatrician. Bacterial bronchitis. Expensive designer meds. Another day out of work for me, and class for the boy.
Outside the Publix, while the prescriptions were being filled, I called my boss to let her know of my absence. During this time, I was approached by a very hungry woman. I gave her the cash I had remaining from my week's worth, and hoped she bought food with it that would stick to her ribs.
Breathing deeply. Working and parenting is not always the most easily navigable when one tries to do both well.
And yet: I have a job. A much needed job. One I like very much and want to hold onto. My family has plenty to eat, and a warm home to which we can retreat for healing during this 26 degree day in what may be the hardest winter our country has experienced. Tonight when we tuck in, we'll say a special prayer for Miss Rita and all too many others like her, who do not have what we do. And we'll remember to be grateful, and to share what we've got.
|Home. Health be restored.|