I'm sick again. In June. Mostly I just have a cold. Unfortunately, I'm allergic to cold medicine. Thanks to a little vick's vaporub and ibuprofen, I'm sitting up. For now.
Now, if you'll kindly recall, Adrian has a history of being unsympathetic to ill folks. He's been much better this time around. He brings me medicine. He rubs my back. He buys Old Navy groupons when I'm too delirious to do it myself. He's wonderful.
But every time I'm sick here in Chicago, far from the miraculous curing powers of my mother, I always think of that one time a few summers back when I had strep throat and an accompanying temperature of 103 and I was completely miserable.
And although Adrian's so good at taking care of me now, those couple days when I had strep it was really my friend Emily who graciously stepped in as mom.
She sat on my bed and read me Charlotte's Web. And she did all the voices. And despite being miserably sick, I was so content. I don't remember much about it, but I remember a little bit of peace.
And every time I'm sick, I think about that. I think about the gentle kindness of it.
*Pictures via pinterest.com. Click each picture for the link.