Lucky.

I woke up only slightly disoriented.  The slow, methodical hum of an oscillating fan lulling me between the awake and still-asleep...

It was 2 a.m.

I thought of my daughter first.

I didn't know where she was. 

But I knew she was close. 

Was my husband worried? I hadn't called to let him know we wouldn't be coming home. 

I was still in denim jeans, hugging my waistline tightly, and a plaid shirt that suggested I had spent an evening at a country bar.

But in fact I had spent the night at my moms. 

It was one of those spontaneous trips- Leaving my husband to paint with the solitude and quiet he deserved. Leaving him to not have to share, for too long, his painting tools with an all-too-eager toddler, despite how much they both have been enjoying this summer project:

I was thankful Lloyd was getting a night to himself.  I was thankful he was using his night to make my walls the shade I can't get enough of lately... 

I felt lucky.

And I enjoyed being at my moms.  

Watching my daughter rifle through my mom's purse in pursuit of a sucker she knew would be there.  I loved seeing my mom disappear into her bedroom and see Sayler quickly follow behind- a reminder that the little bruiser will never give someone a moments peace to them self. 

I felt lucky. 

I liked seeing how excited my mom was to show Sayler the 2 new Disney movies she'd added to her arsenal for her myriad of little visitors, only to have Sayler look completely disinterested and request, yet again, "The Annie Song", aka "Annie". (The love of theatrical sing-song films is genetically wired in us...) 

And I loved sitting, curled up, on mom's couch, reading aloud her horoscope and laughing every few minutes when it said something so uncomfortably accurate. 

I felt lucky. 

I was appreciative to have someone like her in my life- for not thinking the whimsy of my astrological curiosities is a waste of time or odd. For letting me read aloud, which I so love to do, a snippet from my Susan Miller subscription...

(My mom doesn't think many things are odd, in fact.)

And when I told her of the nagging, lingering pains in my throat, ear and general fatigue she fed me, quizzed me on my HMO and promptly gave me a Tylenol and left me to lie in her bed- taking Sayler to watch more Annie (and likely eat more suckers).

I don't know why, but as I lie in the dark with the 500 milligrams of pain relief kicking in, I silently cried, as though my body was letting go of my recent illness through tears. 

But I felt lucky. 

And then I woke at 2 a.m.

I went into the front room. 

I saw my mom and Sayler curled up together on the couch that was not designed for comfort. (Sayler, as expected, took up a disproportionate amount of space).

As I watched them huddled and contorted together, my mom's hand slightly grazing my daughter's foot, all the while knowing they had allowed me to sleep comfortably alone to recover...

To have this kind of love and care in my life-  

I feel lucky.