sick day
April 27, 2016 § 4 Comments
The morning unfurled itself around the unexpected, a sick child who only hours previously had shuffled sleepily through her routines without the slightest clue something was amiss.
My husband and I had procrastinated our breakfast as I curled over my thoughts, head bowed over busy keystrokes of curious rambling. The day was settling into the loosely choreographed comfort of modest efficiency when our phones interrupted our efforts and reprioritized our attention.
Gathering our daughter from school we traded tasks, moving busily through the mechanics of washing away the early morning stories with empathetic giggles and gentle encouragements. Tending in generous swaths of presence.
It was only after toilets had been scrubbed, school clothes washed, and shared areas sanitized that I turned the corner on my daughter’s room to find her face partially hidden beneath her sick bowl; not in misery, but good humor.
Balanced atop her head, as if it were the most unexceptional accessory, was the silver bowl meant for emergencies repurposed for entertainment.
Pridefully impulsive costuming that turned everything upside right and back to normal.
These are my favorites. Remarkable moments of personality that dress up the predictable childhood experiences with indulgent individuality; shorthand of self in a universal language of play.
scribblechic 
Beautifully written. Makes me recall of those sick days of years gone by. Glad they’re over!
Thank you, Terry. I’m always touched when my self-indulgent sentiment stirs a quiet chorus of “me, too.”
I’m a fan of the way you describe your day before every post begins.
There is so much grace and generosity in this beautiful compliment. Thank you.