Day 260; Footnotes Some Days are Filled With More than We Can Handle Alone


That is how it seems that many of my recent days have gone. Just time passing, not much going on. I talk with mom. I do some chores. I write or wander outside to take some photographs. Almost mundane and humdrum. Then, there are days like today.

It started off with my frustration at a silent muse. Nothing I saw, nothing I read or heard, triggered thoughts and ideas to write about. I didn’t write out a daily word prompt for this month. I thought I’d wing it and see what happens, now I know. Next month will have word prompts. I did finally get my morning blog written, though it was more of an early afternoon write.

 My mother called as I was finishing up and asked if I would drive her to the big box store in a different location than we usually shop. Sure right after I eat something.

We go to the big box store and of course they didn’t have what she wanted there either. So instead of buying what they did have, she wondered if we could just go to the one we usually shop at to see if maybe, just maybe they got some of the dog food she wanted in stock. We went back to the car and headed out. As I drove down the correct row to leave, someone decided that directional arrows didn’t pertain to them. I think we saw each other at the same time. I hit the brakes and watched as the passenger in the other vehicle nearly had an aneurysm. They backed up and I drove on past. It took mom a few moments to calm down as well. We get to the other store and while they still didn’t have the dog food, they had everything else. In the cart, paid for and back to the car we headed home.

I get her home, then come back up here. I had been emailing back and forth with someone in hopes they would donate something to the Jeep event.  I wanted to see if they had responded to my last message. I brewed up some coffee, grabbed a piece of candy and came in to get all caught up.

Dad calls. He had spoken with some friends of his who had told him that he could have some scrap wood. Their yard wasn’t all soggy wet from the rain and if he wanted wood, he could drop by and load up his truck. Would I be able to go with him and…when? sigh. I’ll go now dad. Turn off the coffee pot, find my gloves, grab my phone and head on down.

We get to where the wood is, and I have to direct dad as he backs his truck up to the gate. Finally after a couple trial and error moves, he’s in place, the gate is open-one of those error moves when I failed to realize just how big that gate was and which way it opened.  Finally ready, we begin loading his truck. Its slabs and scraps so it isn’t heavy, just long. Not so long that it hung over the back thankfully. I tossed a bunch of slabs off the pile, then load them onto the truck. I then have to climb part way up on this mountain of wood scraps to get to what wasn’t buried or lodged in a way making it inaccessible.  And of course my foot slipped and I fell into the mountain but wasn’t injured. We finally get enough that dad is happy, though he was upset that he couldn’t help me. Which I kept telling him was fine. The wood wasn’t heavy and he only had me fill the truck up half way. Which was still a good bit.

We get home, he says he’s not unloading the truck today so I get out at my driveway and come back inside.  I poured myself a cup of the cooling coffee and microwave it a bit to warm it up. I come back to the computer, I sit down, I have messages about the donation. I try to make my way through the nearly seven hundred email notifications I now have.

The wood thing had worn me out and I was about half asleep when my son called. Was his backpack on the chair in the living room? Yes. Would I bring it to him? He was wanting to go purchase something and needed it to be able to carry it home. Sure. I met him at a small store and as I headed back for home, he took off in the opposite direction. When he got home, he had an interesting tale to share. My son..has an odd sense of humor, but then, he came by it naturally as it runs thick in my family.

As told by him, as he entered an electronics store. Employee walks up all chirpy, “May I help you?” My son, “Yeah, I need a thing.” Employee, “a thing?” My son, “yeah, a thing” Employee not so chirpy, “What kind of-thing?” At which my son pulls out his phone and shows the employee exactly what thing he wants. Chirpiness returns because as employee said, “I rarely get anyone who knows exactly what they want.” He gets the needed numbers, go gets items and returns. They converse for a moment when a couple walk up. Employee,”May I help you?” Couple somewhat vaguely, “We need a monitor” My son smiles and walks away with a good luck as chirpy had turned to forlorn.

Then, I get a message from a friend. “Can you call me?” I immediately was filled with dread. This friend’s husband has been in the hospital for a while now. Not covid. He has had bad days, not so bad days, even a couple of good days. Today, has not been a good day. Today has left her exhausted, afraid, wrung out. For her privacy, I won’t say more. I will ask all my praying friends, to remember them because they are really in need of prayers now. It breaks my heart. The entire time I talked with her earlier, all of her emotions so rare, so real, and all I could do then, was listen. All I can do not is pray hard and ask for prayers. I know the pain of losing that person who is so important, so special, so needed.  I really do not want her to endure that. They are both very special people.

I listened to her earlier. I heard her crying. So afraid so overwhelmed. I know, that she is not alone. There have been so many deaths, so much loss, so much pain and heartache. People have been lost to us for so many reasons. I fear we may be growing numb to the loss. Each death, just another number. Then we see the hurting, we hear the voices begging, pleading, praying. It goes from just another statistic, to a reality. From black and white words on paper, to reality. And you want to plead, ‘no more, please no more’. Across social media, you see people asking for prayers, some sharing the reason, some not. Reasons are not as important as the answering the request and offering up the prayers and petitions of a heavenly response.

I know, when I go to bed tonight, I won’t hear the crickets outside. I won’t hear that owl, or the neighbor’s motorcycle on his midnight ride. I’ll hear a tear filled voice, so filled with fear, so exhausted, asking for prayers. For someone she loves more than life itself. I will definitely be uplifting mine.

About rebecca s revels

A writer, a photographer, a cancer survivor. An adventurer of the mild kind, a lover of the simple pleasures such as long walks and chocolate. A Christian unashamed of my faith and a friend who is dependable and will encourage readily. Author of three self published books with more waiting to find their way to paper. An advocate of good things, a fighter against wrongs.
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