Friday, April 12, 2013

her helping hand

Everything is difficult right now. (I'm not going to lie.) Since December difficulty has invaded every little corner of my self. Granted... it could be entirely worse, so I'm not complaining. But the fact that so many things could be worse, does not make what is currently difficult any easier. (It only makes me very grateful it's not worse.) 

Yesterday I was folding clothes. I'm terribly behind on laundry, and Robs has been forced to wear her second-to-least favorite type of clothing to school: stretchy pants. (Her least favorite type is skirts.) I was on my third load and Erikbear and Squish were playing quietly downstairs. It was almost noon. I was wearing pajama pants and a pony tail and berating myself with my thoughts. The past seventeen thousand weeks of a broken foot came crashing down and I left nothing untouched. My life. My degree. My waistline. My lack of a wardrobe. My lack of spontaneity  My house. My parenting. My cleaning skills. ...the list went on and on. It wasn't fun. When Erikbear came up to say he was hungry (he wasn't... I'd just fed him.) I shamelessly handed him an iDevice and went to take a shower. 

Our day evolved. We had lunch. We played. We picked up Robs from school. We had a snack and went next door to play at the park. I sat in the sunshine and thought. I know me... and I know I need a good run. But I literally can't go for a good run, so I have to settle and work through everything as it comes. I'm in the middle of this intense, crash course in being patient. And I'm so tired of it...

And then the afternoon evolved and it was time to make dinner. As we walked back from the park  Robs grabbed my hand and matched her steps with mine. Squish was walking on my other side, so our steps were rather small and rather slow. But it was a nice evening, and I focused on Robs' little black and white shoes. Before I knew it we were home and walking up our driveway. 

I could have easily stretched it into a parable on patience. Or turned it into something to remind myself of how I'm hopeful life will blend back into what I consider normal - sooner rather than later. But I'll learn patience and life will eventually blend back to normal, so I think I want to remember it just how it was: her little hand in mine and our matching steps.  It helped so much.


Post a Comment