Waking up to café con leche and a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel. There’s nothing better than that. Unless it’s having it served in bed. We’ve established a give and take that has only taken us 32 years to perfect. Or try to perfect.
The only thing missing this morning is a little voice saying, “Na, I want some juice.” After a week with her, I got used to having my granddaughter around. But, her mother came yesterday morning and whisked her away. Now I feel robbed, but strangely rested.
My heart, though, needs no rest. There are vestiges of her presence about the house. A pile of Legos on the floor by my bed. I left them there all day on purpose. To remind me of her, and anyway they weren’t on my side of the bed. I needn’t step over them on my travels and her Pa was gone to work all day.
The living room is littered with her books and crayons, her throne askew, her pint-sized easy chair in which she installs herself and pronounces, “I want SpongeBob, Na.” Thankfully, SpongeBob is usually on TV when she requests it because Na forgot how to work the Xbox, and the Blu-ray player, forget it.
She is back to her usual self, thank goodness. And Na must get back to her usual self and her usual duties. There is an editing class final to do and another writing class to sign up for. And seriously explore setting up a freelance editing business. Why not? I do it for free already!
The clock is ticking and my nursing license expires in a few weeks. I’ve lost the debate with myself. I will renew it, but that means I have to order a Continuing Ed class and pronto. I’m still toying with the idea of having a job where I have to punch in. Keeping my license active gives me the freedom to keep toying.
I just don’t want to learn any more about breath sounds or heart sounds, and definitely not bowel sounds! I want to learn something interesting. Something that suits my needs and interests of today. How about health care journalism? Now that I could sink my teeth into.
But, I might settle for a class on humor. I’m a big believer in humor therapy. Laughter is the best medicine. I used to give up precious sleep back when I was a nursing student. M*A*S*H came on at 11:30 at night and I had to watch, had to laugh. To wash away the stress of the day. Working, studying, keeping house and raising my young son while going through a divorce was no picnic. And there was nobody to bring me coffee in bed then.