no fair

The  book I’m writing about childhood needs a chapter, or at least a section, on unfairness. How unfair it is, for instance, to have your birthday upstaged by your grandmother’s fall and hospitalization on a day when everything’s supposed to be about you. How unfair to have to spend time at the hospital when you’d rather be partying.

That was the story here yesterday, when the call came that Granny had a losing bout with gravity while attempting to water the flowers on her porch, that she and her broken hip had been rushed to Centennial Hospital, that all plans for the day, the week, possibly the summer were now scotched since we’re Granny’s only local support team.

Younger Daughter hasn’t complained a bit, she’s stifled any expression of disappointment and any complaints about cosmic unfairness. She’s a compassionate, loving granddaughter. I’m the complainer here.

Not only is life often unfair, it’s also too often hostile to the very spirit of childhood, to carefree abandon, to present-time enjoyments, to fun. Reality breaks the spell, and sets the life-challenge of recovering that magical trance from before the fall. Many of us never get it back again, too many of us never even realize what we’re missing.

I’m just glad we got the new volleyball net up before we had to go to hospital, and that she got her birthday Sushi dinner with complementary green tea ice cream.* She’ll get her party, too, eventually, and a long bike ride on that shiny new Schwinn. It’s only fair.


*P.S. Some timely cards & calls from Missouri helped a lot, too. Especially her “first credit card!” Thanks for the pre-loaded Visa, Aunt K.

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