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Rusty

Sometimes you spend the day digging post holes and you know the next day you won’t be able to feed yourself. Some days, life smacks you with bad news and sucks the wind from your sails. Then there are days like I had on Wednesday when you just get stuck. It’s a mechanical thing, a skeletal problem, a socket or joint and all the muscle that attach to it seize and then enlist their neighbors, recruiting an allegiance to protect and defend, but from what? I got stuck and then with each passing hour I was increasingly immobilized. It sent me home from work and I felt foolish because I could offer no definable explanation for why I was crooked and stiff and grimacing with each step. When I got home I was offered the perfect succor, the perfect antidote: my kids. Usually they are anesthetized in front of the TV or computer screen or XBox or cell phone. Instead, they were sitting half watching TV and waiting for me to come home, yet they were unaware I was coming home wounded. They were sweet. One made me a bacon sandwich and then both….BOTH…..asked to lie down with me and nap. These are not little napping children. These are teenagers that stay up past midnight and sleep until noon if given the option. While they were snugly babies and toddlers, they are teenage boys and past the age of wanting to snuggle with Momma. Yet, they did and do. And my heart soared even when my sacroiliac joint was rusted closed.

 

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