croutons

sleeping with bread
Years ago, when N was just a babe, we rarely got the opportunity to eat out. On one special day, we did get to go out. I remember having a chicken sandwich and a salad. My picky child, he ate the croutons and the roll - two for the price of one. The days of cheap eating are long gone, but I have tried hard to always hold close the memory.



The stomach virus has hit our abode. And I find myself thankful for the small things. S was the first to fall victim. At 14, he is largely self-sufficient when ill. Today, it has been nipping at my ankles, but I rejoice. My intestinal fortitude remained intact as I expunged the explosive evidence of an 8 year-old who didn’t quite make it in time.

And now, while I type, I cling desperately to the remnants of gratitude as that selfsame child peppers me with wakeful questions and comments – at midnight, for this is an indication of slightly improved health.

What gives me the least gratitude tonight? Well, I don’t think anyone enjoys cleaning up after unintentional bodily emissions (especially when feeling a bit on the queasy side).

And for what am I most grateful right now? I am the most grateful for the fact that everyone isn’t sick at once. I am most grateful for the hope that some might sidestep this illness altogether. I am eternally grateful for the God of small favors.