A New Day

goodmorningPretty soon the sun will come up again. It’s a new day.

When my neighbors realized that I’d stayed home, they invited me to supper last night:  barbecued steak and fresh halibut.   Eating regular meals helps create the illusion that everything’s okay.  I’m finding that I don’t have to be hungry to eat – just put enough food on my plate for everyone to think that I participated in the meal, enough food in my stomach for the meds to not eat a hole.  But the fish last night tasted good.

Most of the family came looking for me when they arrived home and I wasn’t in the house.  The seven-year-old started running when he saw me, and threw himself into my arms.  It’s nice to be missed.  It was nearly bedtime when they got home, but traditions are traditions.  I usually play a few hands of pinochle with the younger kids before reading a bedtime story, so they changed into pajamas and we sat down to deal.  The youngest just snuggled up beside me.  No cards for him, he just wanted Mom.  Finally I sat in my rocker; he was content to be held and rocked like a much younger child.

There was lots of extra traffic last night – people wanting to miss out of the heavy Monday holiday rush.  Seeing how tired my husband was, I’m glad I stayed here.

We survived a whole day apart.  The adults know it’s possible, but it was a first for the youngest.  Growing up and experiencing new milestones is good.  It’s healthy.  But it should come naturally, not be forced on us by the RA monster.


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