one of my most vivid memories from when I was small was when I had the croup -- I remember it so strongly -- I was about 3 and we lived in NYC and I couldn't breathe and my father carried me into the hot shower and held me in his arms in the steam, holding me close and coaxing me to breathe. I was feverish and remember the hallucinations, believing them to be real, of scary demons rising in the mist.
so vivid. I really did feel the urgency and fear of the situation. and remember so strongly the safety of my daddy's chest as he held me close.
years later I asked him "remember when..." and he said: oh yeah. it was exactly like that. I thought you might die on me. and then he hugged me tight.
Tapped out from shipping off a 50 page document for work within a string of larger deadlines leading to still more deadlines.
No complaints, especially in this economy, just no time to post anything of interest.
Browsing Tampen's flickrstream this morning (and stumbling across his lovely waiting for mermaids shot) I was reminded of a comment I left a long time back on his blog.
So I've recycled it here.
A cheap way to post something personal in a hurry. But also a reminder of the times we don't nearly make it back.
And then we do.
2 comments:
My son recently recovered from croup and it is indeed scary for a parent to hear that barking cough deep into the night, and such a sweet relief when the breathing becomes regular again.
50 pages? Ee gads! Good luck with that..
I love you. And I love your writing.
Post a Comment