The angels sang
Apr 15th, 2008 by Jill
It was Tuesday. Jack’s class was leaving for Wyoming the following Sunday. We got an email from the trip organizers reminding us that it would be about fifteen degrees there and re-sending us the list of things he should bring with him: a warm winter coat, wool sweaters, a waterproof jacket, long underwear, and rain pants, among other things. The weather here is always pretty nice. We don’t tend to have wool sweaters and winter coats and rain pants in our closets, and especially not in kid sizes, since they — the kids — grow so much. I was gearing up for an expensive trip to REI, when I got a call from Kathy. Since we use a single email address for school stuff, the email had come to her at the same time. She had a bunch of cold weather gear from a couple of trips she’d taken the kids on a few years ago. Some of the things she got for Chris then might fit Jack now. We made plans to get together with Jack at her place and try it all on him before the weekend.
Wednesday, a friend lent Kathy a barely used boy’s snow jacket. She came by to pick up Jack after school, and before they left he tried it on. It was a little big, but not too big. It was just fine.
Thursday night, Jack and I drove over to Kathy’s to drop him off after school and to go through Kathy’s stash. Chris and a friend were hanging out in the street. I honked at them as I drove up. Kathy was talking on the phone about a project. Chris and his buddy came in the house and got put to work unloading the dishwasher. Sam the dog ran around between everyone. Kathy got off the phone, and within twenty minutes Jack had tried on all manner of warm and waterproof things and he had all the snow pants, long underwear, hats, gloves, rain pants and other warm things on the list. All we needed at the end of it was a few more heavy socks. No painful trips to REI had to be made. In the bustle of Sam touching base with everyone and Chris and his buddy in the kitchen and Jack putting on and taking off all kinds heavy things, I felt happy. This felt good.
Kathy packed all the warm gear into a couple of bags for me, and as I was walking out the door, Sam nosed out with me and escaped. Kathy went back inside to get the kids to help to catch him, and I walked over to the car to load up the gear. I caught a glimpse of him and then studiously ignored him. He came over to investigate. I dropped my bags and grabbed his collar before he could register what was happening, and handed him back over to Kathy and the boys as they were coming out. I’m not the wiliest dog wrangler in town, but I felt pretty proud of myself as I handed him back to Kathy. I was learning. We were learning. We were in this together.
Sunday, G and Chris and I drove to the airport to drop Jack off with his class. Kathy was coming, too, to say goodbye. She gave me a call after she’d parked. “I’m here. Where are you guys?” she asked, just as I saw her walk through the sliding glass doors.
“I see you. You’re in the right place,” I told her. And she was. And we were.
Aww!! I got goosebumps!!!
AND I can stalk you from work now!! Wooo Hoooooo!!!!!!
This is wonderful! And I love the new header. I laughed aloud when it appeared on my screen.
OHHHHHHHHHHHH Jill. What a wonderful story. And, what’s so cool — is that it’s our life you’re talking about. I sometimes — very often actually, these days — have a feeling like I’m living in a parallel universe. A universe in which I’m actually happy and surrounded by love. You are definitely a major player in the parallel universe game.
I keep thinking it’s an accident that I’m suddenly in all these wonderful and positive places… but I look back and realize that it’s been years (ah, decades… ah… a half century actually) of work and decisions to take the high road and self-analysis and constant love and forgiveness, towards myself primarily and towards everyone else as well.
Incredible change is possible. Incredible happiness is possible. Life is never without its share of suffering. But life is never without its share of joy as well. I’ll write my own post about this soon… but in the meantime, thank you for so eloquently capturing that moment. (And thanks for not mentioning that I was really stressed out and kind of a bitch the entire time you were revelling in the glorious squalor and tumult of humanity…!)