Waiting for Wistful

Like all kids, I periodically got sick. I was perhaps a bit more prone to bronchial illness than some kids, but I was generally pretty healthy. I didn’t like being sick and I didn’t “fake” it to miss school, but notwithstanding the physical discomfort there was a peculiar euphoria in the morning when it was clear that I was staying home. The whole day stretched ahead of me – baseball cards, Mom caring for me, a lot of cereal, and morning TV (The Price is Right). The mornings were nice, but the afternoons were depressing as my brothers returned from school and played outside. The reality of the sickness hit me. The evenings were nice though, especially bedtime. My parents would set up the Vick’s Vaporizer in our room and it emitted that steamy Vick’s smell. To me, that was the smell of parental concern and looking back it seemed to envelop me.

One night following a pair of sick days, I felt much better and planned to return to school the following day, I remember feeling a twinge of wistfulness that this turn of the Vaporizer and watching a.m. game shows was behind me. I mean, I was glad to be well, I just realized that I would miss the little bright spots.

I can’t help but wonder how I would feel if I got well enough to return to work now, ending this extended holiday. I don’t watch daytime TV, and I don’t have a Vaporizer, but surely the bright spots have been dear to me, and I would miss them. (I hope to find out some day!) For the record, just because I try to see the silver lining in this trial, does not mean that I like it. I would be thrilled to have it lifted and to return to work and my “normal” life, even though I would just be normal Dave and disqualify myself as a good “Sunday School comment.”

(Although I know that even if every neuron were completely restored that I will never be the same again. I mean that in a good way.)