Thursday, September 18, 2008

getting through a tough day...

There are days when...
the alarm clocks get ignored
and nobody listens to the breakfast choices
or the clothing choices
and the girls are fighting over the barrettes
and sneaking into their brother's room
and there is no time for either a run or a shower
and barely enough time for the requisite amount of coffee
and the kids are screaming in the car during early morning carpool
and unbuckling their seatbelts before you stop the car
and poking and ruffling the hair of whoever is in front of them
and sticking their hands outside the windows to wave to their friends as you're rolling them up and almost squishing a hand or two as you try to get them to their classrooms before the bell rings,
and you hate yourself for screaming at excited kids
and for blaming your bad mood on them
and you know that you've left yet another burnt pot soaking in the sink
because you hurried to make the lunches you left until the morning,
until the last minute,
and then realized there was no bread so you had to make noodles
but you forgot them on the stove,
and you know the kids will complain about those lunches after school during their ravenous, emotional, pre-homework release sessions,
and they'll lament about what a terrible cook you are
and you will wonder why you aren't as together as the other parents seem to be
even as you think the kids are being a tad ridiculous,
and your inbox is waiting for you, practically empty,
and you're trying to not to be impatient with job hunting
or with spending the extra quality time with the kids
and your sister just left town
and you know it'll be another year before you see her again
and you forget that every single time she leaves, you feel a new sort of lonely,
and sometimes it feels like it would be easier to just numb yourself and not feel anything.

And then you think about your friend, your dear friend, lying in the hospital,
recovering from surgery, asking about what's up,
what he's missing while he's in bed and working on getting stronger,
what's happening outside that sterile, unworldly place,
and then the silence of numbness becomes a somewhat painful prospect
and that noisy life around you seems bright and familiar and precious,
even if a bit nubby in that overloved way.

3 comments:

Becky said...

Beautiful!

Sorry about your rough day. :-(

Paul said...

I love this. Now you can add poetry to your list of accomplishments!!

Anonymous said...

thanks amy! i loved it.

Josh