The Sick Day

One Wednesday in November, I took a sick day. For ME.

My children and husband were all in various stages of recovery after a monster of a cold that had lingered in our home for weeks. And as mamas do I had carried on through my own bug and put myself last. But it caught up with me and I was left squinty eyed with a double ear infection that felt like a knife slicing through my head.

I started antibiotics, I took some pain medication. I made myself some Earl Grey and a buttery piece of toast with cinnamon. I babied myself and happily gave in to the neglected list of DVR’d shows.  But as the Tylenol started to kick in and the throbbing dulled to a mere whimper, The List reared her ugly head.

What could I do to make this day off worth it? Laundry, dinner preparation, vacuuming, there was so much that could be accomplished with the kids at school.  Mentally formulating the day’s to-do list, I noticed how the sun was beaming down through the front picture window in our house. I had never really noticed how strong it was at this hour in the day. When was the last time I just sat and was still?

I spent a few moments in the still and realized there was another agonizing sound. This one was in my heart, though. I missed my kids. I missed my kids? It had not even been five hours without them and I missed them. I missed my husband. I missed the sounds, the footsteps, the humming drumbeat of our everyday. The silence was overwhelming without my family. The silence that I so crave each evening around 7:00 was now almost unbearable.

But I needed it. I needed stillness. I needed blankets and pillows and the cats curled at my feet.

So I took the day and missed the noise of my family and in spite of the throbbing and swooshing that returned swiftly with their arrival, I was so glad they were back.

We watched the sun set together that evening through the big picture window, which was in dire need of a good washing.

Amazingly enough, the view was still just as remarkable.