Sick Days

The flushed cheeks. The heat radiating through his fine blonde hair. The watery eyes. The stuffy nose. The cough. The pitiful look.

The cuddles. The nuzzling. The need.

The tissues. The chicken noodle soup. The sniffles. The coloring. The screen time restrictions thrown out the window. The fever reducer. The nurses line.

The hand washing. The thermometer balancing. The fluid pushing.

The ignoring of the regular. The shelving of the responsibility. The forced rest. The enduring of the Thomas videos.

The snuggles. Oh, the sweet, overheated snuggles.

It’s humbling this power. The power to comfort. The power to make it better. The power to be whatever it is they need you to be – tissue fetcher, water bottle filler, chest pillow.

My heart aches for him. My arms encircle him. My lips test his forehead. My hands pour the medicine. My body provides the care. My soul offers the remedy.


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