an ordinary day

Thanks to the Daily Challenge for the invitation to share this writing:


For ten days I lived the learning curve
of diabetes, partnering with my beloved son
to help his through maternal leave,
given the grace of time to relish
each extraordinary moment.

The first hour’s sing-song babbling
lifts from crib to giggled hugs and undercover
hide-and-seek en route to the day’s first blood glucose test
followed by calculations of insulin and carbs,
breakfast planned to even out
the hours to come.

This child, so gentle and joyful of spirit
accepts each poked finger and prodded thigh
with grace, a lesson I cannot fail to notice sets
the warp of our day through which we weave
our patterned way, each hour
a new adventure.

From Grandma’s blocks we build
to hold what he loved at the aquarium –
octopus by the elevator climbing glass walls,
his giant purple sac blowing up bigger then smaller
carefully reconstructed through his two-year
old imprint, giant tank within winding
ramp, sea lions sunning beyond.

He recalls with pride how he placed his hand
in the pool where flat rays swam shallow circles
requiring him to dip, lean and shriek with surprise
when the flappy gray surface floated beneath
outstretched fingers, feeling like velvet
fleet and brief, tickling his hand
again and again.

We chant the trains that took us there —
‘one train, two train, three train, blue train’
and back – ‘one train, two train, red train, bed train’
to test, insulin, lunch and rest. Later, we’ll
relive the adventure with Brio trains,
tunnels and bridges arcing us
back to the present.

Past supper the day’s reduced
to favorite books, moonlight and song
stories lingering among the family
of bears lining his crib, a round
of Dona Nobis Pacem circling
him in love’s embrace.

How the layers unfold like
an origami crane in flight; then settle
back to nest, each hour building bridges
between love and need, grace wrapping
itself around this wondrous gift
of an ordinary winter day.
swb ©2017

29 thoughts on “an ordinary day

  1. Pingback: Sunday Blog Share: an ordinary day | Myths of the Mirror

  2. Pingback: none | sarahscapes

      • Shelley is a great antidote to despair or pessimism. Seems a girl (if you take account of the difference in our ages) who has got everything together! But in the most self effacing way. She is wonderfully wicked.

        Rediscovering your poem made me realise how often we read and pass on, and forget. There were so many lovely things like the ‘origami crane’ ( so apt the way they settle and fold up) and the ‘flat rays swam shallow circles’

        Really lovely Sarah.

      • Thanks again, Philippa!!! One of the most delightful aspects of putting writing ‘out there’ is the differing lines that strike a chord … the multiple interpretations of an image … the depth one feels to the humor another finds … it’s all so very humbling in the end, no? As for Shelley – you said just what I was thinking – ‘a great antidote to despair or pessimism.’ Utterly charming. Yet another fine feature of online friendship. ‘See’ you soon 🙂

    • So welcome, Joolez – and thanks for stopping by! Lovely to have some extended time with you – ALL of you, us – despite the sad circumstances. More acceptance ahead!!! Love you.

    • Thank you, Philippa! I finally realized that what I can do in this time is keep on putting out the tenderness and beauty I feel and see around me, as hopeful counter to the intense negativity. In some small measure. Otherwise … Be well, my friend.

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