More a post-it note than a diary today, as I’d planned to spend a little square of yesterday writing about the week and instead spent that time in the emergency room with my daughter (she’s fine, and such a tough cookie — injured her ankle skiing and it’s currently in a splint), which is to say — being exactly where I needed to be.
Even while in a place I did not want to be, repeating those words to myself — you’re where you need to be — gave me the deepest sense of purpose and calm. My top-fleet tiny rescue boat. That, and of course the deep kindness and attentiveness of the medical staff (God bless them — geez, are they angels!; a special shout-out to a fellow mom in Emory’s class, a pediatric emergency physician, who permitted me to intrude on her Saturday by asking for advice!). And also my husband and son, who did vaudeville-style dancing to distract Emory, and even made the radiologist laugh.
While we were in the car on the way from the slope to the hospital, we looked back and noticed Emory was holding a “box breathing” toy that a friend of hers gave out for Valentine’s Day. It’s a little matchbox of sorts with a tiny toy inside, and on the back: instructions for box breathing tailored to a child. Later, while waiting for x-rays, I saw her squeezing her stress teddy bear toy. She’d packed both of these without my knowing in her Jansport, along with her favorite book, a Squishmallow, a notebook and pencil, etc. Her tiny, perfect packing list. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as prepared as my eight year old.
Anyhow, wishing you a legato morning and an uneventful weekend —
Can’t wait to unpack “Wuthering Heights” (the movie), which we saw on Friday —
Onward —
