Deuces

Sayler was sick. The last few days her lethargy and missing spark was concerning, but the most relieving moment came when she vomited on me and Lloyd.  Rubbing her back and telling her she was doing a great job as she projectiled her illness onto our blankets and sheets meant she was on a road to recovery.  "That's it, baby- get out all the ickys... You're doing a great job..." It was a soothing relief for worried parents.  "What if it's Ebola?" Lloyd's nonsense inquiry made me scoff (though quietly consider the possibility). That's what a sudden illness does to parents.  It makes us consider all the possibilities.  But after 3 days trooping along the way she does when she is under the weather- complaining not- denying anything is wrong until the moment she cannot mask the dull ache in her tummy... She vomited. And it came out in an angry force, full, exhaustingly, and with no control over the pieces that landed in our hair and atop our duvet.  A

"I am proud of you" I whispered,  holding my husband's waist from behind, openly encouraging his hard work.   We stared at the openly messy yet somewhat lighter feeling garage, watching the rain tap outside on the now-full trash bins.   He had been tackling clearing out the garage for a second day in a row while I carried on in our upstairs living areas pulling long forgotten games and socks out of hiding places.  Laundering, trashing, sorting, folding, hanging, assessing what we want to keep and what we can live without.    This is the effect of reading a book on the 'life-changing magic' of tidying up.   It's working.  God, I hope it's working.    And though I absolutely love a good thorough cleaning all day, any day what elevates my soul to another dimension is purging and, alas, here we are today: 6 trips to the Goodwill later, in addition to 10 pounds of electrical cords, wires, electrical device chargers, cable boxes, Blackberry