If Table Clutter Could Talk...

     If the clutter on the table at our daughter’s home could talk, what story would it tell?     
     A pacifier - that’s Eve’s, a tawny-haired two-month-old who gets drunk on milk until her eyes roll back and she’s lost in la-la land.     
     A fire rescue truck - that’s Oak’s, the two-year-old brother of Eve who moves at warp speed around the house as he creates his own “fires” and needs rescuing.     
     A book on cancer - that’s our daughter Ashley’s, the mother of Eve and Oak. A week before Eve was born, Ashley learned she has cancer. She waited until Eve arrived, then began four months of chemotherapy.     
     Objects not on the table: a computer belonging to Steve, Ashley’s scientist husband - sometimes he works from home these days; also not in this picture are Duane’s and my luggage - we flew from Denver in masks to arrive in Alabama to help.     
     Charles Dickens once wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Can that be true in this situation? We have the threat of covid outside, the threat of cancer inside. Yet we experience remarkable times. Like the night before a chemo session, we danced around the table to Hank Williams’ singing “Jambalaya,” and then sat down to a meal of the Cajun dish provided by caring friends.
     Dickens was right: it can be the best of times, if we MAKE it that way.