Traffic Stop

The disaster that was yesterday is now over.  Thank you sleep.
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All I could do was slog through one task at a time on about 3.7 hours worth of sleep.
I kept Sophie home from school because I was too exhausted to get up and drive her there.
Instead we stayed home and finished her book project.
Brilliantly, I decided to cut open a feather pillow and give her a glue gun.
She added blue food coloring. sequins, graham crackers, and ramen noodles to the mix.

I tried to take solace in the shower.  I let the hot water lull my eyes into a daze.  I rested my forehead against the cold tiles.  After 4 minutes a tiny hand pasted itself onto the shower door.  Judging by the height, I could tell it was Pepper.
Mom, are you in there? I need you to open my fruit roll-up.
Fruit roll-ups for breakfast.  Awesome.  They do not involve cooking.
I open the shower and find a racoon looking up at me.
Did you find Sophie's make-up?  I ask.
She holds up the wrapper.

My friend Linda called to see if she could drop off tomato seedlings.  Hearing the voice of another sane adult brought tears to my eyes.  She doesn't know it, but her presence bouyed me up for the next wave of responsibility.

After cleaning the house, dropping the little kids off at the babysitter, and the gymnasts at their carpool, I drove silent and alone to work.  Again tears sat on the rim of my eyes.  It was only 2:45 pm.  I still had to teach my class, load their final painting project into my van, spend at least 2 hours doing touch-up on it, pick up the kids, make dinner, give baths, pick up the gymnast, make dinner again...

I stopped at a stop light.  I looked to my left.  A girl, about 22 years old sat on the curb.  Her hands cuffed and her face buried into her palms.  Her feet were splayed out like a baby giraffe.  She wore Converse.  Her feet were small, size 6, like mine.  Two cop cars were parked on either side of her outdated maroon sedan.  I strained to see if I knew her, but her head was buried deep.  Her lime-green purse had been purged, along with the rest of her posessions.  It looked like maybe she had been living in her car.

And it all stopped...

On Friday I will be sober 8 years.  This girl was me.   I wonder if she felt relief because the cycle had stopped for a minute.

As I drove the rest of the way to the school my thoughts were:

Thank you for letting me go and teach my class today.
Thank you for this mini-van and it's 2 carseats.
Thank you for my kids.
Thank you that I have a home for them to be...and spread out...and thrive.
Thank you that I am not in that cycle anymore.
Thank you that I am sober.
Thank you for the clear eyes that are Sarah - for eyes to see far beyond pain and inconvenience into the heart of things.