Ice cold freezing water running over my hands, ice cold weather on the other side of my kitchen window. Skeletons of the massive trees around our house look freaky, like they’re trying violently to grab us from our cozy house into the glacial wasteland outside (again…please note my dislike of the cold…lol).
The ice cold water on my hands is from the blue washcloth I am soaking for my 8 year old’s burning forehead. Her glassy eyes and bright pink cheeks are like neon lights advertising her misery. As she listlessly took the pink goo that’s supposed to pass for medicine (I think a few teaspoons of pure honey would certainly help, too, but she won’t hear of it) she giggled and pointed to a spot next to the giant blueberry-colored bean bag chair near her, “Look at the fairies dancing!” Clearly I administered the pink goo in just a nick of time. Thankfully she is blessed with a rich imagination, otherwise I’d be worried out of my mind!
A few year ago, Daughter #2 had a VERY high fever, and she was screaming that there were white spiders crawling all over her. The look of complete terror on her eyes as she clawed at the imaginary crawling icky things (although I’ll take spiders over centipedes ANYDAY) made me throw her into a cool bath without a second thought. The scariest part is how they can be perfectly fine one second, running around the house, playing dress-up and within a short amount of time they are sad heart-breaking little munchkins.
Three of my girls are sick and thankfully Bob (my coffee maker, for those new to my site) has been by my side faithfully, warming me and keeping me on my toes, helping me remain vigilant over the sniffling, hacking, moaning little bodies. As Bob and I have our 3rd private moment of the morning, I listen to 99.5 in Myrtle Meach on my computer. I think one of the best ways to learn about a place is to listen to locals discuss the issues relevant to their area on talk radio. And as I swallow the dark umber liquid spiked with a peppermint candy cane left over from Christmas (maybe today I’ll get around to taking down the tree…), the weather in Myrtle Beach comes on. Chance of rain today (maybe I won’t feel so bad still being here today). Sixty-seven for a high (nope, gonna still daydream about South Carolina). And as Bob reminds me to get another pot going, a scratchy little voice from the couch asks, “Mommy? Will we ever see fairies or white spiders again? Will I ever have to have another cold again?”
Sadly, as much as I wish a move to Myrtle Beach could mean exactly that, I know that is one thing that is probably not going to change.