Thursday, May 9, 2013

thursday morning notes

It's a beautiful morning out. I went for a walk a little bit ago so I know. Clear and sunny and absolutely perfect after a few overnights of rain and damp. The mourning dove's cooing calls are heard most spring and summer mornings.  I love to listen to that sweet sound. It's a comfort. They perch on the treetops and often on the fireplace flues on our peaked rooftop. When they sit out there and I am inside here, it just comes down the chimney like these birds are right somewhere in the house.

I rose just after five thirty to these birdsong sounds and just a touch of sun coming over the mountains to the east. I lingered in bed for a bit and then made my way down, calling for the boys to get up. I started the routine. Breakfast to start. Table to set. Lunches to pack. Even went above and beyond and made his. He was gratefully surprised. I stirred the pot of Malto-Meal and Isaac knew I had really listened, remembered yesterday his request and pleas.

In between getting him out the door and breakfast clean up, I sat down and wrote her a letter to stick in the package. I could have typed it-- it would have been faster-- but there's just something so personal, so human about receiving the gift (truly, it is a gift. A gift of time, of slow, of "I care"...) of a long, multiple-paged handwritten letter. Something that's become almost old fashioned in this day and age of emails and word processors. And I've found that these little relics of sentiment in the form of cards and letters and notes are worth tucking away in their own special box which I've set aside for just that purpose.

These days have been full days. Between the typical demands of family and school, (I'm approaching term finals this next week and the following week. Lots of studying to do between now and then.) I've been spending these last few mornings and afternoons at the hospital with my mom who underwent surgery on Monday. She's home now. And we're all happy about that. Grateful that my sister flew in yesterday and will be there at her side for the next few weeks to offer 24 hour after-care.

Just a little memorable incident to share while I was at the hospital yesterday. I almost passed out, blacked out, or fainted. Whatever you want to call it. There I was, standing beside her as she sat on the side of the bed while a procedure was being done to correct and get rid of a terrible headache that was the result of her epidural anaesthesia during surgery. I was holding her hand, soothing and telling her to breathe and saying how it was okay. Then, before I knew it, my right eye started scrunching up, my ears started to ring, the sounds around me began to be muffled. My environment dimming. I was ready to go down. Thankfully, the nurse standing next to me looked at me, noticed my "white as the sheet on your mom's bed" coloring and had me sit on a chair with my head down.

Totally out of the blue experience as I don't usually get queasy with these kinds of medical situations, and I wasn't feeling anxious at all, really, about the whole thing. But as I think about it, maybe it was something in my subconscious about my own epidural birthing experiences and fears. Anyway, I was left with such a weird, strange, tired and head-achy feeling that lingered throughout the rest of the day.

But as far as today goes, everything seems to be just peachy. Hope your day goes that way, too!

Thanks for stopping by.

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