Winter has arrived. It’s come without the crisp blue skies it often brings but the humidity has left the air dry and the breeze chilled. It was below 60 for the first time in 9 months. We’ve pulled out our sweaters but we never put away the shorts or flip-flops.
The cold that has hit hardest is the one that strikes our sinuses and lungs and has the tissue boxes emptying faster than you remembered from the last cold. It’s a tough strain that is taking out the strong ones along with the predisposed and it’s leaving us in weakened conditions, not feeling up to the fight at all.
The last meds have been taken, the ones prescribed by the doctor, the ones that I’m not sure have made a difference except for hoping it’s prevented me from spreading the germs.
We kept our plans to spend the weekend in Jacksonville with our daughter and family. The cold moved in there earlier as they have a semblance of seasons. The trees along the interstate were boasting reds and oranges and it looked right silly the middle of January.
Our presence shrinks their condo but it felt good this time, needing to feel huddled together for warmth and a bit of nurturing. We kept to a loose schedule and watched football and ate new foods and sat side by side on the couch watching Christabel work on her lego castle and cars. She’s a smart one, this girl. And the happiest thing.
The rains came hard in the wee hours of Saturday and maybe this is what stirred her from sleep, what had her call out, “MayMay…” I’d woken moments before so it took no time to respond to her call, just across the short hall from our room. It struck me even at that hour she must have reasoned our room was closer and that’s why she called out for me rather than “Mama…”
I laid next to her in her twin-sized bed, stroked her hair as she said, “I had a bad dream.” Now isn’t the time to talk about such terrors so we just lay nestled together. Her body was full awake, mama’s and MayMay’s can tell such things. After a few minutes, I asked if she was going back to sleep and she said, “No, can I get in bed with you?” There it is…the great pleasure of crawling in with grandparents, the easiest marks for all children, as well it should be.
“There’s not enough room in our bed”, I had to tell her. It’s only a full-sized and her Baba is full-sized all by himself. . ”But I’ll switch with you. You can go in my bed and I’ll sleep in yours.”
“Really? Will my parents get mad?” 3:30 a.m. and she has the presence of mind to ask these questions and make sure she’s not going to get in trouble. I assure her all is well and walk her to the warm spot I left that had already started to cool.
Her bed crinkled when I turned over, a firm mattress that’s never slept more than her growing body. I read for a bit before the rains returned and lulled me to restful sleep.
There is a gentle grace in making room, in stretching what is little into just a bit more. And isn’t that always grace? From little into more? Into enough.
Linking up with Holley Gerth and Coffee For Your Heart