5.9.03 ragged

The week has had ragged edges. My beloved father-in-law is out of the ICU which is excellent news, but my son was already skittish from being sick and the trip and worry about grandpa when the kindergarten teachers decided to show Spirited Away. It was bound to happen eventually. There is no way to control all of the media the children see when they go to school or visit friends. It was just simple bad timing for our family. My son actually did an amazing job of dealing with the situation; he asked for another activity. But he isn't happy about the whole thing.

Stella was supposed to come for lunch but we didn't synch up and I had a little bit of extra time in the afternoon. The teenager is going on a long school trip and she was theoretically packed - I would only need to show up and say goodbye - so on the way to the school I decided to do a little research. I'm trying to work on the creepy memoir but I'm hampered by the fact that I didn't keep journals. I need more scenery, more piquant details. I thought that driving over to Children's Hospital would be handy. To jot down notes about the foliage, that sort of thing.

As I drove I was listening to the eighties channel and thinking about narrative structure. When I turned into the lane to go to the parking lot, a Cure song came on and I saw the big square building and then I saw parents standing around outside, looking haggard and sad, and I just lost it. From seemingly nowhere, a whole channel of grief opened in my head and I started to sob.

I turned the car around and left without taking any notes. It is hard to work on a creepy memoir when you are reluctant to think about your chosen topic.

Of course as it turned out my daughter wasn't ready for her trip. She wanted me to go buy an assortment of last-minute items and then on the way to her destination she remembered that she needed to get her bendy toy from home. Call me a sucker (she often does) but I can't deny the children certain requests. We drove across town in rush hour traffic, and back again, and then after I hugged her goodbye I finally drove home. The entire thing, which I conceived as one small stop and then a brief interchange of fond farewells, took seven hours.

My poor son fell asleep in the car and now I don't get to watch Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

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