Some days usher in more lessons than others. The most-inspiring ones are pretty obvious, like sixteen days ago when my grandson Patrick arrived. Everyone in his extended family – from his great grandmother to his cousins to even my cousins’ children (which would make them his cousins twice removed) took pause that day, awestruck over the miracle of life’s beginnings.
Some of us were reminded of life's ending too, especially remembering those who could not be with us for Patrick’s birth. I wonder what my very dear friend thought, after hearing I had just become a grandmother. Just a day or two earlier her father passed away on, believe it or not, the same day he was born . Just hours before his 90th birthday party was about to begin.
There are days that speak in more subtle ways. For three of those days now, I’ve been nursing a pulled gluteus – of all muscles! This has made me a grumbler more than a wonderer. The malady has kept me from seeing my little grandson, making me a very unhappy cramper (one whose muscle is cramped :/). I’ve had to relegate myself to the first floor of my home and, at night, to a recliner instead of a bed - which would be even more uncomfortable to try to sleep in. (As if sleep were really a possibility in the recliner).
Though I had a difficult time last night, partly swigging water and two extra-strength Tylenol twice in twelve hours, partly in a tub of warm water, partly propped awkwardly atop a heating pad, partly in the already mentioned recliner, and partly pacing the floors, which was more comfortable than reclining in the chair, you can imagine my surprise when mid-afternoon today, I began to feel just a bit better. Enough, that is, to reduce the painkillers down to one every four hours and feel as if I had reached a threshold of sorts. The worst of this pain in the rear (and down my leg) was over. I’d be back to my routine and able to see Patrick in a day or so.
I began my celebration of sorts by starting to prepare chicken fingers for dinner. It felt so good having some interest in preparing a real meal again. (Cereal, yogurt, and bananas only go so far when you are convalescing). Egging, coating, and placing the breast tenders in a pan seemed as comforting as the meal it would provide.
I had just put the chicken in a small toaster oven when my daughter texted a four-tiered message to me from her home just 50 miles away - an answer to an earlier text from me , followed by some more attention-getting news.
There was a storm brewing - and an unexpected day's lesson riding on its tail.
To read Part Two All in a Day post, click here.