pelicansandprose

This is the last night of “summer,” as in I go back to work tomorrow. I’m calling this “The Summer of Delights and Disasters.” I’m going to list them to possibly write more at another time.

Delight #1 – a week in Maine with friends.

Disaster #1 – my sister fell and has a compression fracture at T-12. Ouch.

Delight #2 – a week on the Outer Banks, NC with some of my children and grandchildren.

Disaster #2 – my other sister had surgery to repair the tears bone spurs inflicted on her Achilles tendon. Ouch.

Delight #3 – a week at the TCRWP Writing Institute with my friend, Sally, and the great thinkers and teachers I encountered there. (Including Stacey Shubitz!)

Disaster #3 – getting sick in NYC and not knowing where to go.

Delight #4 – HAMILTON!

Through these delights and disasters at least one truth rings clear. Most people are good. Most people want to help.

Another truth: Aging is no joke. My sibling relationships have become more important than when we shared a room in a little house. We often switch roles as oldest and youngest, with youngest taking care of oldest. Our birth order no longer matters as we face the challenges of living what is sometimes called, The Third Third.

Another truth: Friends matter.

And finally: The best stories are often about forgiveness. That was one of the many things that struck me after seeing “Hamilton” which will surely become iconic of our time.

Family. Friends. Forgiveness. Not a bad outcome for a summer such as this.

I arrived a few minutes early for my appointment at the doctor. I had filled out my forms and was waiting for my name to be called. As I waited, I observed three young children, may I say, very well-behaved children. They each had a backpack with their own activities: coloring books, sticker books, and books to read. They were entertaining themselves without a single whine or bicker.

I turned my head and saw an attractive woman. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top. Her arms were tan with well-defined muscles. She had a kind face. I gathered she was the mother of these sweet kids. What transpired next has lingered with me all day.

“Mama, are you crying?” asked one daughter.

“Mama, are you crying?” asked the other daughter.

“No honey, I’m just thinking.”

She finished checking out and setting up her next appointment.

“Mama, are you sick?” asked the little boy with so much concern.

“No, I just had a little problem and needed to talk to the doctor about it.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” he asked again.

“I’m sure.”