By now you have probably gathered that I have a son, and you've probably gathered that I am sentimental, too. On top of those things, I'd be willing to bet that you have caught on to how important I find the details of life. Throw all of that together and you get a happily teary-eyed momma on the day of my son's first stomach bug. Yep. You read that right. My poor baby was pitifully laying on the couch, after his first official stomach bug experience and I was moved. Let me explain.
I'll start by saying that my home as a child was a magical place. It was old and warm and cozy. And, there was lots of brown.I think this is why I still love to surround myself in the color brown today. The doorways and windows were framed with stained wood, the console television was a beautiful piece of wooden furniture, and the couch. Oh, the couch. It was a rough apolstered, orangey-brown plaid, and I can remember plucking my fingernails back and forth over the bumps. There was always a hand-crocheted afghan draped across the top, and it was the perfect place to be sick. The light was diffused through the many windows by curtains my mother had crafted from a set of white sheets. They kept out and let in just the perfect bits of light. Yesterday, as my son lay napping on his couch, the light was just exactly the same.
Within seconds, I was back on Freeman Street. The Price is Right was on the old console, and our scratchy couch was covered in our soft and fluffy Holly Hobby quilt. I think it was Holly Hobby, but regardless, I can see it clearly, it's yellow and orange squares held tight with little ties made from yarn. My pillow is there and I am comfier than any person alive. Next to me is the can. If you know me well enough, you know I still have those milk cans that my mother found. What treasures. They have been a seat to many dinning children, both when I was a kid and now. But, on sick days they were special. They held the ginger ale, complete with a plastic bendy straw. Lastly, I see the brown bowl. I think most families have their own version of the brown bowl. It was never too far from reach when a stomach bug came around.
What this vision brought back to me, moved me because I realize what a lucky little girl I was. My mom could even make sick days and their memory, one that brings feelings of nostalgia. Memories that bring a yearning to travel back and lay there listening to her in the kitchen making me a special sick day lunch. Memories that I will always be grateful for.
So, when I realized my son was sick, I also realized that it was now my turn. I had the chance to start forming those memories of safety and comfort and love for him. What a blessing to be the safe spot for someone needing comfort. I happily got him set up on his couch, with his pillow, soft blankets and our version of the brown bowl. Straight from an unexpected mid-morning bath, in fresh pj's, my sweet boy feel right asleep. And the light in the room was just exactly the same...