Another Day

Her face is turned toward the window, nestled on a deep feather pillow.  Long dark lashes flutter as I kiss her cheek, brushing back soft strands of hair from her forehead.  It is dark out, yet she will rise and greet another day.

His face is face up, eyes closed, arms thrown back over his head in the same position as when he slept as an infant.  I reach down to kiss the sweet spot between his jaw and neck, and he groans and pulls the covers tighter.  It is dark out, yet he will rise and greet another day.

Sleepily she pads downstairs, honey colored hair still in a messy braid.  Too early to eat, she sips cold orange juice as she pulls on long underwear and ski socks.  It is dark out, yet she will go and meet another day.

Groggily he pulls on his fuzzy black and white skull patterned bathrobe and gulps down fresh water.  He trods down the stairs, too full of chatter for such an early start.  It is dark out, yet he will go and meet another day.

She dresses quickly yet deliberately.  No worries about appearances, she thinks only of the snow that awaits her.  It is cold out, yet she will be brave and face another day.

He pulls on his layers, sweet grapefruit juice dribbling down his chin.  Thinking only of the countdown to Christmas, he hugs me in anticipation.  It is cold out, yet he will be brave and face another day.

Methodically she unscrews her ski helmet face bar in the dark lodge, preparing for the morning workout ahead of her.  Layer upon layer upon layer she bundles up and heads towards the lift, tousled braid whipping in the wind.  It is dawn out, and she gets to have another day.

Slowly he prepares for the snow, insisting on doing it alone.  His fuzzy brown head disappears beneath a royal blue helmet and goggles, contrasting the lime green and black of his jacket.  We kiss goodbye, my assurance I will be waiting for him when he returns.  It is dawn out, and he gets to have another day.

Yet as I sit by the window watching the sun crest the snow-covered hills, I cry for the mother and child who are apart, who will never feel their arms around each other again, and who cannot brush away each other’s tears.

It is bright out, and I get to have another day.

 

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe at jenniferwolfe.net.

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  1. It is so sad…I’ve been thinking about since I first heard yesterday. I was thinking of you too, and wondering how you took this news. Did you know him? I don’t understand life sometimes…

  2. puts christmas gifts into perspective…so very very sad, they interviewed doug johnson’s kids on the news, poor little guy was his best friend. not sure how you explain it to a 7 year old

  3. I feel terrible that I don’t know who this is about, but it’s sounds like a tragic story. I feel lucky every day to spend time with my kids. My husband lost a brother, which leaves his parents without one of their children… a horrible experience we should never have to go through. Thinking of you during this time of loss and holiday season.

  4. —-Believe me, I have LOTS of questions for God.

    I used to wonder how people survived, got up in the morning, went on living…

    I used to wonder….

    Now I’m doing it. And I despise it.

    SO sorry to read about this tragic news. Thinking about you today. Xx

  5. Hi Agent-It is very tragic. We lost a little 7 year old ski racer last weekend. It’s so hard to understand.
    Hi Inner Chick- I know you live this every day. Sending love.
    Hi Blonde-thank you. I hug my children every day…
    Anne-I don’t know how a mother can survive this. I hope all these words are reaching her through the universe.

  6. This post is beautiful. My heart aches for all those parents as well. My grandfather just lost his daughter (my aunt) earlier this month. As a parent I can’t imagine…

  7. Elisabeth-thank you. This has been a very sad few weeks for our ski racing families.
    Tara-I’m sorry for the loss in your family. I know people survive the death of a child every day, but for me it’s unthinkable.

  8. This is written so beautifully. So sorry to hear of the loss which your heart is breaking for. I cannot even imagine the horror of losing a child. Praying for the family of this young child and taking extra time to hug my girls this gifted day. 🙂

    ~Hugs to you,
    Rosann

  9. Rosann-thank you. I think we all should remember how precious every day is with our children.
    Hi Anne-your words and prayers are appreciated
    Sharon-thank you for your prayers…I know they hear them.
    Cynthia-I hope you hugged your son extra tight tonight!

  10. Such tender writing, and such grief. I do not know this event, but can see it in my mind. My prayers go to all whose lives were hit hard by the death of such a precious child. Susan

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