by Debra

Musical pairing – Beautiful Eyes by Taylor Swift

It’s quiet this morning except for a train somewhere off in the distance . . . I don’t know where that train is going but it’s these moments when I’m present enough to actually hear its whistle, I wonder where those tracks begin and end. I haven’t slept much in the last several days . . . life is turned upside down . . . and with it, my lack of focus, my lack of drive to accomplish checking items off my ‘to-do’ list . . .

The Professor has left for campus this morning, the cats are sleeping in various positions stationed around the perimeter of our great room; the sun has not yet risen but I occasionally hear the call of a bird outside and if I peer through my windows, I can barely see the outline of what’s left of the leaves on the trees. I should be accomplishing my morning routine . . . planning tonight’s dinner, running the sweeper, finishing a load of laundry and hitting the treadmill, then pilates or a bit of yoga before I start to clean off my desk in the office.

Instead I’m thinking about Alice . . . her siblings, her mother and my son . . . navigating this road, this uncharted territory . . . for when a child is born with a terminal illness and you somewhat plan for somewhere ‘down the road’ . . . ‘down the road’ suddenly sneaks up from behind, grabs you by the throat in a choke-hold and you can’t move . . . you discover that you just didn’t see ‘down the road’ coming . . . you didn’t plan properly . . .

I am flooded with sweet memories of Alice . . . dark brown hair in pigtails, white ankle socks with frilly lace, chipped ‘goth’ nail polish, a tattoo in the small of her back, big brown eyes hidden by even bigger sunglasses and a laugh and a smile that melts your heart the moment she freely shares. In typical teenager form, Alice prefers salty chips, sweet candy, Starbucks caramel lattes and pepperoni pizza . . . I am betting she would turn her nose up at this chicken . . . I think she’s much more a fried chicken kinda girl . . . but then again, she might surprise me and take the teensiest taste just to see if I’m right when I say it’s one of the best baked chicken recipes I’ve ever made . . . I’d also forgive her if she still prefers fried . . .

SMITH BITES NOTE: I wrote this post yesterday morning and life changed this afternoon; Alice is being taken off all support tonight and will be going home soon . . . she is tired, she’s in pain, her body is weak and she told her dad that she is ready to go . . . and I love her enough to tell her we’ll be ok . . . and we will be ok . . . thank you so much for your prayers, your words of encouragement, for your kindness . . . it means the world to me and my family.




Leave a Comment

{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }

{ 1 trackback }

Previous post:

Next post:

Smith Bites