Monday, September 5, 2011
He lay there staring at the ceiling trying desperately not to think of what the morning would bring. His eyes closed, he concentrated on the rhythmic sound of rain falling to the beat of the universe. Why did the rain not calm him anymore, nor woo him to sleep as past rains had done?
Somehow the rain had worked its magic, sleep did come but waking was now reality. Every morning his bed left him feeling like a prize fighter on the losing end. The room held no silence, no calming greeting, and no space to gather what few thoughts he had about this new day. In fact, there was no newness to this day.
In a slow, painful motion he lifted his head and propped himself up to survey the damage. He knew an evil hand rearranged the room in the night, always do. “What evil must I wade throw today?” he thought as the situation became painfully visible.
The Peterson’s had been shifted to the rear, a new family needed the space. Bob was explaining to Emily how, “today was the day.” Pete sat as usual sipping coffee trying hard to let the tears fall in his cup. Jane was changing a bandage on the cuts now healing, inflicted by a man who could not cope and then there was Ms. Hattie.
Ms. Hattie was his saving Grace. Regardless of how damaging, of how changing the evil hand had been, Ms. Hattie sat in her rocking chair with a smile. She always greeted his day the same; a smile, a wave and a “good morning Fred, the sun is out.” His rock she was, the spark to drown out flame and his mental reminder of what each day might and can hold.
This friend is a tribute to our so-called Labor Day. If you have not met nor do not know of someone in this situation, say a prayer of thanks. If however, you do know someone like my Fred here, be their Ms. Hattie. Sip your coffee but smile, wave and remind someone the sun is out.