David is off for school in the morning. His lunch is packed, his books are readied. His bus arrives and he is off to get his education…. as usual.
Kevin is off to work in the morning. He and I had our walk. His lunch is prepared. His outfit is clean and ironed. His car has gas so that he can get to work. He is off to meet the challenges of the day and to earn a decent living….as usual.
The shift changes for the group home across the road. The clients are happy. They smile. The yard is cleaned up. The bus arrives to take some of them to school so that they can participate in society as every citizen has the right to participate…as usual.
The picture frame in the front room turns on in the morning flipping from image to image. There are memories of birthday celebrations, Christmas celebrations, Easter, New Year’s Eve and wedding. People are enjoying each other. They smile for the camera. History is made and preserved…as usual.
The dogs in my neighbour’s yard bark at passers-by. They have been walked, fed, and watered. They are loved. They are fiercely protective of their masters…as usual.
I hug the blanket around me during cold flashes and throw it off during hot flashes. The blanket is warm and cozy and when I’m cold – it warms me instantly. The house is warm and dry. The furnace turns on when the temperature drops. There are no leaks in the roof when it rains. There is “space” in this house to live. Everyone has their own bedroom and can choose to be alone when needed, or together when desired… as usual.
Messages chime into my cell phone from friends and family who are “thinking about me and wishing for my good health”. My spirits are bolstered by the daily courtesies. I feel well loved and supported… as usual.
I sit down to try to write my post… as usual.
Cars travel up and down the street – some fast – some slow… as usual.
I wonder what I am going to cook for dinner tonight?… as usual.
I listen to the news about Corporal Nathan Cerillo’s murder in Ottawa. His family and community grieve the loss of this young and vibrant man. I hear about the 5-year old who is under observation for ebola. How would a 5-year old understand why he would not be able to hug his mom? I hear about the continued unrest in Syria that has seduced young Canadian men into its war brothel. I wonder why I have been so blessed with so much… as usual. I am grateful for my usual.