Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Where To From Here?

I am sitting at my dining table, facing the window. It’s snowing. It is March 12. This late snow that comes every year though; a farewell? How could I know.

A good day for cowboy coffee. Take slow sips, smell it mostly; on days like this every sip is a world apart. Memories of times past, sunny mornings not long ago, words, whispers, promises…

Today is different though. I’m angry. I know there is a way out but for now I am here, failing to see the end of it. The last few weeks have been trying. Life as it happened but mostly Sasha’s on and off asthma, itchiness, moodiness caused by it, his waking up many times a night, stuffed nose, nose bleeds.

This was not part of the deal. He has cat-triggered asthma, I know that. So we stay away from cats because they cause severe itchiness and asthma. But that’s where it should end.

It doesn’t. Dust does it too now. Will pollen? The insolence of it all is infuriating. I keep telling myself that it could be a lot worse.

I keep telling myself that other people have it worse. Some strange guilt complex though people suffering is not my doing. The strange, often trying balance between gratefulness and guilt…

So I play nice, for the boys’ sake. I act like a grown-up who knows how to deal with it, but inside I am quite little and clueless. Throwing rocks into a big pool of dirty water and getting all muddy.

I ask for nothing but health, I always have. For the boys first of all. This is not it though. I feel cheated and that angers me. By no one’s fault, by no one’s doing. Life as it happens? Who knows?

Sasha comes at night in my bed when he’s bothered by his problems. I usually take him back to his. We do that dance many times a night. Back and forth. Tuck in, hug, kiss, please sleep baby… But lately I don’t want to take him back to his bed every time. I want to hold his little body and make it all good. Make him better. Make him healthy.

But he is, he is. Healthy and beautiful and happy. It’s just this thing, it might go away. Hope, pray, hope. And hug. Hug them tight; both of them. Laugh with them, don’t show them my fear and never tell them it cannot be. Tell them about what matters the most: today. And show it.

There is only one way out of here: the way out of anger. Anything else would mean robbing them of that conviction that we never give up. Hope, pray, hug. Today…

It stopped snowing. Coffee is done; the tumble of memories is dozing at the bottom of the cup and all there is to come is nestled in a place that I know the way to. I do.

Acceptance is the only way to go. I am not there yet.

Grateful for everything else…The only way to see through.



The Pursuit of Kindness


The Trouble With Floors…Or How To Be King On Any Given Day


  1. Delia

    Thank you for this post. I cried when I read this part “I want to hold his little body and make it all good. Make him better. Make him healthy” I know so well what you mean. Acceptance? I am not sure if it applies when it comes to seeing your child suffer, maybe the acceptance that we cannot make them better…And btw, telling yourself that others have it worse, is rarely working; no need for quilt there, it is what it is 🙂

    • Thank you for your thoughts, Delia. You are always in mine :-). And you’re right, it doesn’t work but it is hard to escape it and to make peace with that issue altogether…

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén