The Gift of an Ordinary Day


In a second it all changed.

Sadly, Erin and Tim and Valiant were heading back home that afternoon.  Also very sadly, Jason and Aileen had left early that morning.  Unfortunately, it would soon be just the five of us.  I had already decided the tree was coming down.  It was dead.  It had been dropping dustbins of needles for days.

We had feasted with such abandon these few days, that the seven dozen eggs were gone and had been for a day, bread was running very low; the milk was gone too.  I would restock that afternoon.

Towels and sheets were piled and ready to wash, one last wash load of Valiant’s small clothing was drying.

Those D.C.  travelers would leave at 2 p.m. and arrive home the next day at 2 a.m.  They really needed one last good meal.  Brats, potatoes and onions with a side of sauerkraut and peas before the long trek were quickly fried up.

Tim and Erin can both fly with three extra check-on bags for free!  (Remember when regular folk could do that?)  The back of the car was loaded full, and we all packed in to see them off.  We kissed them good-bye.  They entered the passenger only realm; we waved at them one last time and left.

Cars halted at the cross walk, and then Matthias decided to jump over a steel railing, and slipped.

And smacked his head into the main post as he spun to the other side of the railing.  Shaken, he got up, I asked if he was alright.  I should never ask Matthias if he is alright, he’s always alright, even when he’s not.

A huge goose egg suddenly appeared on his forehead.  I would be the first to shriek, “Oh wow, that looks really bad.”  Andrew, ever the EMT, gives me this look of, “don’t send the boy into shock with your fright.”

In the car, this egg manages to get even bigger, when I look over at Andrew, I can tell he’s concerned too.  We pull into the Urgent care center, the receptionist takes one look at him and sailing past the full to brimming waiting room, directs us immediately to an exam room.  And tells us she thinks they will have to send him to the emergency room at the hospital, the black hole where people wait forever and are not seen for days.  NOooooo.

One little question and that all changes, “Have we seen him here before?”  ”Why, yes, you have, you removed staples from his head not too long ago.”  An established patient.

Waiting for the doctor, I suddenly remember that I am supposed to be watching Fox soon while the rest of the nearby grandkids go to Voyage of the Dawn Treader, in 3-D.  I forgot my phone.  So we wait for the doctor and Meghan doesn’t know.

Waiting, the goose egg slowly recedes to chicken egg and then later yet to one magnetic rattlesnake egg size bump.  All the while Matthias is saying,”I feel fine.”

The doctor arrives and looks Matt over, and then begins to tell him about how amazing  blood clotting is.  Matthias takes over from there and agrees that, “in clotting, the blood amazingly forms a kind of net of fibrin….”  He’ll be fine.

Home for five minutes and in walks Meghan with Fox, “You’re early,” I say.

“I left you a message on the home phone.”

“Oh, we just got home five minutes ago.”

In a second I was reminded how often my days are so wonderfully ordinary that I do not even remember to thank God for the  gift of an ordinary day.

Ordinary is good, very good.

Thank you, God for ordinary days.

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