The tissue fairy has been hard at work here.
Little white tufts adorn my house. Here, on the kitchen table. There, on the couch. One on the bathroom counter, and another atop the hamper.
One laying in the upstairs hallway, a single corner fluttering slightly every time I walk past it.
I hope that every dollar my son spends in his life gives him as much sprawling joy as the dollar he gave me for that stupid box of tissues.
The first couple of tissues I encountered, I picked up. Generally speaking, I don’t like having things laying around where they don’t belong. I took these wandering specimens back to their box, and tucked them in with the rest of their clan. But it was no use; they kept escaping, and the house is littered with them.
I decided to just leave them be. The tissue box isn’t bottomless, you know. He’ll run out, eventually.
Not that you would notice, really, if you didn’t know they didn’t belong. The house is pretty much a mess, regardless.
Three times today, people I love apologized to me for sharing their burdens. Because I have my own load, and they felt badly adding to it. This–to me–feels like a person asking forgiveness for breathing air. Obviously I would wave my magic wand and give everyone their happily ever afters if I could; but barring that, I cannot imagine wanting those important to me to stay silent for my comfort.
(And really, let’s just face it: I’m worrying enough for several small nations, right now. If you’ve got a problem, this bandwagon is ripe for the joining.)
My son’s kind assessment aside, I’m really not a “dewicate fwower.”
And so I’m moving right along, nursing my own wounds, and running into unexpected injuries all around me. It can be a very helpless feeling. Even so, it’s a good reminder that everyone has their own hurdles, and not everyone drops out of society and subsists on coffee ice cream and “Uh Oh” Oreos as a result.
Tonight I started talking to the tissues. “Oh, little tissue… you poor thing… are you lost? Do you need help finding your mommy?” This delighted the children. They sprang to action, rounding up the orphans amidst multiple campaigns against evil, culminating in me standing on Monkey’s bed and belting out “Tomorrow” while they beamed at me (the kids, not the tissues).
I know. You think I’m exaggerating. I really, really wish I was.
Hey, I know it’s not much. It’s all I’ve got, right now. I don’t have answers. I don’t have a magic wand. I can’t even always be with those who need me, and often there’s not a damn thing I can do to change the fact that someone I love is hurting.
What I have is a lot of questions, a messy house, some show tunes, and Christ almighty a whole lotta tissues.
Right now, that will have to be enough.