Right now there is someone tugging on your shirt. You have
the flu, a temperature of 102 or is it 103? You haven’t had time to check.
Feels like 105. There is a pile of mac & cheese crusted dishes spilling out
from the sink. Did you feed the dog? Feels like maybe, but he’s looking at you
like you’re a complete jerk. Has he eaten at all this week except for that one
time you caught him eating your salad from your work bag. Poor dog. You’ve
driven him to eating salads. And you had to skip lunch that day because that
half eaten by a dog salad already put you over budget for the week. Did he put
the low-fat balsamic dressing on before he ripped open the Panera box and
devoured your lettuce?
One kid needs to poop, one is hungry, one is throwing 54
crayons in the front room and you’re not even phased by it. Why does pooping
take 45 minutes for everyone else but you? You begin to get cold chills. Sleep.
You can’t remember the last time you crawled into bed and slept for six
straight hours. You’ve convinced yourself you don’t need it, but science says
otherwise. An email pops up on your phone. 2-hour delay at school tomorrow. Your
boss needs a report by 10 am, your friends haven’t heard from you in weeks and
they’re worried, and suddenly it strikes you. You’re out of coffee. This is the
straw that broke…
Have you been here.^? Completely worn down, exhausted,
pulled in every direction but uncertain what path to step down first? You’ve
been here. We all have. It’s almost unfair to say “this too shall pass” because
maybe it won’t pass right away. Maybe it will linger. This flu has been holding
on to your co-workers for weeks. What if it holds you too? When was the last
time you were held?
It’s a shame a gracefully aged woman doesn’t drop from the
ceiling right now, grab your elbow and say:
“Enjoy this, dear. I’d give anything to go back.”
“Enjoy this, dear. I’d give anything to go back.”
You could use that pep talk right now, not the hundred other times.
“Enjoy this dear. I’d give anything to go back.”
Would you? You ask
the ceiling. Would you go back to this moment? Just then your 6-year-old walks
up, gives you that head tilt and vomits into his dirty fingernailed hands.
First one down. You scoop him up without thinking, run him to the sink where he
finishes his vomit. He looks up at you mortified with large scared eyes. You
kneel down.
“It’s ok, sweet boy. It’s going to be ok,” you say.
And suddenly he’s ok and you remember no one’s words will
affect him like yours. You clean up the puke, wet the wash cloth, snuggle him
into the couch and turn on his favorite movie. Just before you tackle the next
to do, you crawl in beside him. His sick face lights up. Your daughter shows up…
“I’ll take care of you,” she says. And you know she will.
And so you let the mac & cheese crusted dishes linger one more day, you pray the dog doesn't die, you glance around you at the toys spilling out from every failed attempt at organization and you remember...one day you may actually miss being needed like this; being relied on like you are the only person on earth who matters.
Because you are.
And so you let the mac & cheese crusted dishes linger one more day, you pray the dog doesn't die, you glance around you at the toys spilling out from every failed attempt at organization and you remember...one day you may actually miss being needed like this; being relied on like you are the only person on earth who matters.
Because you are.
“Enjoy this dear. I’d give anything to go back.”
