There are these days.
There are these days where one word defines the entire day. Some days it’s as simple as “simple” or “beach” or “win” or “end”.
There was no other word after that one today.
It just sat there. In my head. Like a g-ddamned stone. Unmovable.
There were other words that floated around in conversation… 1 in 9 girls … highly treatable … periodic adjustments … possible fertility challenges … pregnancy monitoring… auto-immune disorders…
… no she won’t grow out of it.
No. Not okay. Wait. Two weeks ago I was stressing over letting her shave under her arms and the possibility of an early period. Now it’s hypothyroidism, medication for the rest of her life and worries over growth and development.
And I know, I KNOW this is nothing. In the scheme of things this is nothing. My inbox full of CaringBridge email updates proves that to me every single day.
But still. She’s my Swimmy. She’s had the best summer of her young life. She is fun and funny and spunky and, man, has she gotten to be cool lately.
This doesn’t change any of that. As a good friend said to me today, “This is just her hand to play.”
It’s just that I know what’s in the deck.