Nope. Can’t. Not right now. Thoughts as I read this week's blog challenge.
Tell the story of one specific child, who walked into your life and changed everything.
In a week of midnight accidents, ambulances, trauma, hospitals, and decisions. In a week of support, sounding board, stress and release. This is something I could let go of. Brain too busy. Heart too heavy.
But then I sat, down time, at MacD’s, writing in longhand no less. Cathartic in itself. Because of that idea of changing everything, and how tiny that can be.
I also had chosen not to write because I couldn’t focus on “the one” without another “one” creeping in. I couldn’t write about “the child”, but today, I can write about this child.
Unknown to me, a little weed from my class saw me go into the same grocery/pharmacy store that she was in. While I was preoccupied with prescriptions and consults, messages of medical jargon, she bided her time, poking down aisles, peeking. When she saw me - a long run, a huge hug, and a made-for-me bracelet fashioned from her pocket of craft bits she always seems to have. Dangling as well, a green grocery bread tag. More hugs, giggles, I miss you’s, a chat with mom, and off she went.
She left me able to breath. Able to think. Able to continue to do those grown-up things that need to get done. Because now I look at my pink plastic loop with Betty Boop and a bread tag and I smile.