This isn’t quite what I intended to write today (Thursday evening). I spent the day watching the children of a friend who was in a dire emergency which I happened upon at exactly the moment it occurred. I took both her nine year old son (he goes to school with Tom but had stayed home sick today) and the ten month old baby back to my house while she accompanied another family member to the hospital.
Strange to say it, but my day with her boys was kind of nice, especially compared to what their parents must have been going through. I realized when I got home that, caught up in the urgency of the moment, I had been left with only one baby diaper and no formula or baby food. We made do with some organic applesauce, and (oh so thankfully) did not need more than the one diaper. It has been such a long time since I got to enjoy a baby for a whole day, and the nine-year-old spent much of his time playing with Tom and Huck’s toys. Good boy, he also helped me make dinner for his parents, even though I know he was worried about them. They went home just a while ago. The fate of the family member in the hospital — his grandfather, who collapsed suddenly while they were out running an errand — remains uncertain as of this post.
Strange, how life works sometimes. I can’t explain it or justify it or say anything about why bad things happen, just that I’ve seen enough of it to know that tragedies happen to all of us at some time or other. The important thing is to help each other when they do happen.
Good vibes, happy thoughts, prayers — whatever your personal brand of positivity is — are welcome. (Sorry, I know that sounds incredibly Californian.) 😉
When something dramatic happens, I personally that find poetry often fits the bill. Here’s the poem I chose (sorry, somewhat sappy, but, I hope, true) for my friend tonight:
by Sheenagh Pugh
Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.
And for you.
See you back in the stacks!