Right Down The Hall

Last night was the much anticipated Christmas Concert for the combined choirs. Usually, around this house, that means that there is a helter-skelter of anxious activity. "Where's my black nylons?" followed closely by "Averie; where's my pearls?" and the ever present "I can't find my shoes!" Then of course, let us not forget; "Oh God, this dress is hideous. I look like I'm going to a funeral!"

I've been through this before, watched Averie go through it last year, and lo and behold, I survived. But this year, it's now Averie and I watching Caris the Madrigal flop around like a fish out of water. Trying to be helpful, handing off articles of clothing in the process, palm open, with a calm "here, try this." It even goes so far as to get it right down to scheduling: I will go to the auditorium early and help the music teacher with preparations, and Averie will drive Caris to the venue in an hour. Charlie will pick up his mom and meet us there at performance time. We seem to have it all down to a science. Or so it seems. Best laid plans of mice and men. Or moms and drill sargents, anyway.

That's how it feels sometimes to try to keep everything running smoothly. You can bark and bark and bark. Doesn't mean anything's gonna go the way it's supposed to, and in the end, you may only come out with your name on a hit list. Life Lesson #257.

Anyway, the musical went off beautifully. Caris, as always, sang spectacularly. However, she did look a little "wilted" as the family would later say. "Caris doesn't look like her sparkly self." As it turns out, she wasn't her sparkly self. She was sick. Though no one would know until the performance was over, because that's the kind of trooper she is. Raging sore throat, muscle aches and pains. Neck and shoulders causing her some grief. As soon as her choir robe was turned in, she asked Averie to drive her home.

It wasn't until I met up with the rest of the family later at Charlie's mom's house for coffee and dessert that I found out. "Where's Caris?" Charlie told all of us that Caris wasn't feeling well. When I asked about the symptoms and he told me, I thought about it pensively and wondered if I should just head straight home. Then in the back of my mind, I remember Mr. H arriving at the auditorium earlier to tell Mr. L that his daughter was in the emergency room at the hospital and wouldn't be able to sing tonight. Why? She was being tested for meningitis. Crap.

We've been through this nightmare before. All those memories came flooding back and despite the beauty of the evening...the thrill of the onset of Christmas and the beautiful seasonal mood now crashed down around me. Neck and shoulder pain, massive headache, temp. We've been very closely linked to a family who lost their child to this disease and as a result had to be tested for it back then. Here we go again. I was scared and I wanted to go home and check on Caris.
So, I kissed Charlie's mom, sister, aunt, and brother-in-law and drove home.

Caris was already in bed, bundled up, and I turned the hall light on outside her room.

"Caris?"

"Yes Mommy?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok. I took some Tylenol. It's just that my head is killing me and my throat hurts so bad."

"Can you touch your chin to your chest?"

:::bends her neck and touched chin to chest::: "Yes"

:::I lean over her and touch my lips to her forehead:::: "Do you have a fever?"

"No, I don't think so" :::my lips confirm no fever:::

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, I just want to sleep"

"Ok, but if you need anything...Daddy and I are right down the hall..ok? I love you."

"Thank you Mommy. 'night"

I walk down the hall to change clothes and I think again how some things never change. Even though they are now "young women" and are no longer babies, the fear factor remains. I guess I'll always feels this way. Always in the back of my mind, there will always be this little twinge of mothering that preceeds and shadows all other feelings. They will be on their own so much sooner than I can even anticipate, and yet, somehow...I will always be there. Even if it isn't literally but in thought and care. Daddy and I are "right down the hall."