I also promised to bring a treat when I go to my new friend’s house for coffee – a treat presented in a little Easter-decorated goodie bag.
It’s a mom date! I may even wear make-up.
But there’s just a vestige of reluctance in picking up where I left off with baking and hosting and teaching English (and cleaning my house).
There’s perhaps a vestige of sadness over losing my baby. When my gynecologist asked me what happened, I started crying as I told her the sequence of events in clinical terms.
(Perhaps there is more than a vestige of sadness).
There’s a vestige of … debris remaining in my womb that is still being followed by the doctors and which caused me slight panic on Wednesday that it might be getting infected. (I don’t think it is, and have a follow-up on Tuesday).
I wonder if that’s why my pants still don’t fit? The vestige. No? Grr.
“I thought that was your blood.”
(Sir meticulously cleaned everything when he came home from the hospital, but merely tossed the duvet cover over the sheets. Of course the first thing the kids did in the morning was to jump on our bed and uncover the huge stain).
There is a vestige of fluid behind Petit Prince’s ear, which could be causing his minor hearing problem. We have a fun three weeks ahead of us cleaning his nostrils twice a day with salt water.
There’s a vestige of fear as I tossed and turned this morning wondering what life would be like without Sir, who had the suspected spot removed from his face last night in a highly unpleasant procedure.
“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?”
and that a cold front is coming in.
There is just a vestige of this whirlwind that recently skittered through our lives, tossing our comfort around like Autumn leaves.