Instead of coffee.
Where to start the story?
I think at the end with the important information that everyone is healthy and the Bar Mitzvah stuff got purchased.
This morning was normal with me running on the edge of late until.... the Police came to the door. That's enough to burn off some brain fog all by itself. I figured it was going to be another fight about the animals or something. Emmett had just been out barking like a crazy dog in the front yard moments before. (Um yeah, not a bad response to an unknown male with a gun pulling into the driveway. Good call dog.)
Nope. He was doing a well check on our neighbor who's just been through a major health issue and wanted to know if I had a key or phone #s for someone who might know where she was. Her car was at the house. Next followed me grabbing our phone list with DIL's phone #. Turning on my phone to get other #s and turning on the computer to Facebook message people. Two busy signals and 1 voice mail later I am still telling the very nice officer (I think this is important to stress he was really really nice!) about my neighbors health issues and trying to convince him no don't wait just go check on her she could need immediate medical attention.
In my head I was less calm. A back part of my brain was sobbing and screaming, "No, no, no!!! This can't be happening." While the part that reads books was sighing resignedly because see there's the other whole post I didn't type up. The one bouncing around in my head. And we know things repeat and happen in 3s because that's the whole point of foreshadowing in a narrative.
Which leads to ....
Galen's Bar Mitzvah is this weekend. I'm busy. Today was the day to buy centerpieces and food for Friday night while Virgil was in school. Its a time of joy in our household. We have a 13 year old. He's worked so hard to learn his Parsha. Family and friends are coming to celebrate. Its such a happy time.
There's a theory that the reason we smash a glass at weddings is to remind us in our time of joy that we shouldn't be too happy because somewhere else, someone is suffering and even during our greatest joys we should be aware of them.
A year ago on Nov 4 my friend and neighbor (and best friend of the neighbor the police were checking on) called to let me know her husband died. We went to a funeral that weekend.
Two years ago on Oct 31 we buried Gabriella. Galen's classmate since they were in preschool. There is already so much heartache and sadness for so many of us as we begin the Benei Mitzvot of Gabriella's class without her.
My Facebook feed has been full this week of memorial posts. For some time now I find my mind flips quietly between the juxtaposition of excitement for my child and my family and grief for my friends that resolves into thankfulness for my blessed life.
So I sat there on the floor juggling a cell phone, a handset, and a laptop with a toothbrush tossed to the side and a child wearing only socks and underwear just knowing that we'd be going to a funeral this week for the third time in three years. How could the plot line be any different?
Thankfully, Baruch shmo! life isn't a book. It doesn't have to follow any silly preconceived notions. My neighbor is on vacation with friends having a lovely time. Her newspaper delivery person is hyper-vigilant and the local police are compassionate and didn't have to break down any doors or windows.
And Virgil was only 24 minutes late to preschool, not bad since traffic was awful outside the HOV lane and we left 40 minutes late. I got all my shopping done.
And I didn't need coffee. I may not need coffee for a few days the way my adrenaline got pumped up this morning.
I think at the end with the important information that everyone is healthy and the Bar Mitzvah stuff got purchased.
This morning was normal with me running on the edge of late until.... the Police came to the door. That's enough to burn off some brain fog all by itself. I figured it was going to be another fight about the animals or something. Emmett had just been out barking like a crazy dog in the front yard moments before. (Um yeah, not a bad response to an unknown male with a gun pulling into the driveway. Good call dog.)
Nope. He was doing a well check on our neighbor who's just been through a major health issue and wanted to know if I had a key or phone #s for someone who might know where she was. Her car was at the house. Next followed me grabbing our phone list with DIL's phone #. Turning on my phone to get other #s and turning on the computer to Facebook message people. Two busy signals and 1 voice mail later I am still telling the very nice officer (I think this is important to stress he was really really nice!) about my neighbors health issues and trying to convince him no don't wait just go check on her she could need immediate medical attention.
In my head I was less calm. A back part of my brain was sobbing and screaming, "No, no, no!!! This can't be happening." While the part that reads books was sighing resignedly because see there's the other whole post I didn't type up. The one bouncing around in my head. And we know things repeat and happen in 3s because that's the whole point of foreshadowing in a narrative.
Which leads to ....
Galen's Bar Mitzvah is this weekend. I'm busy. Today was the day to buy centerpieces and food for Friday night while Virgil was in school. Its a time of joy in our household. We have a 13 year old. He's worked so hard to learn his Parsha. Family and friends are coming to celebrate. Its such a happy time.
There's a theory that the reason we smash a glass at weddings is to remind us in our time of joy that we shouldn't be too happy because somewhere else, someone is suffering and even during our greatest joys we should be aware of them.
A year ago on Nov 4 my friend and neighbor (and best friend of the neighbor the police were checking on) called to let me know her husband died. We went to a funeral that weekend.
Two years ago on Oct 31 we buried Gabriella. Galen's classmate since they were in preschool. There is already so much heartache and sadness for so many of us as we begin the Benei Mitzvot of Gabriella's class without her.
My Facebook feed has been full this week of memorial posts. For some time now I find my mind flips quietly between the juxtaposition of excitement for my child and my family and grief for my friends that resolves into thankfulness for my blessed life.
So I sat there on the floor juggling a cell phone, a handset, and a laptop with a toothbrush tossed to the side and a child wearing only socks and underwear just knowing that we'd be going to a funeral this week for the third time in three years. How could the plot line be any different?
Thankfully, Baruch shmo! life isn't a book. It doesn't have to follow any silly preconceived notions. My neighbor is on vacation with friends having a lovely time. Her newspaper delivery person is hyper-vigilant and the local police are compassionate and didn't have to break down any doors or windows.
And Virgil was only 24 minutes late to preschool, not bad since traffic was awful outside the HOV lane and we left 40 minutes late. I got all my shopping done.
And I didn't need coffee. I may not need coffee for a few days the way my adrenaline got pumped up this morning.