When Rodents of Unusual Size Attacked Me

Image: Clipart Panda

     I hadn’t prepared to be attacked by Rodents of Unusual Size.
     All I knew was that Duane and I needed a good night’s sleep to have the energy to babysit Third Daughter’s young girls the next day while Third daughter had oral surgery.
     But before we turned off the lights, First Daughter texted that her infant son still hadn’t recovered from bronchitis, and they’d seen the doctor again. And Second Daughter, fourteen hundred miles away, texted she’d gone into labor with her first child.
     Sleep? Inconceivable!
     So I took two tiny homeopathic pills to quiet my brain. In the past they’d given me weird dreams, but I was desperate.
     I tried to settle in, but my mind swirled from the emotional punch of too much at one time. Suddenly, my mother, who has been deceased for three decades, appeared by my side with a twinkle in her eyes as if to say, “It’s life. So live it!”
     Still in the dream, a wall rose before me I had to scale. I ran toward it, but Rodents of Unusual Size nipped at my heels, trying to stop me. I scrambled up the wall. At the top, another R.O.U.S. attacked me. When I kicked it away, I lost my balance and toppled to the ground. SMACK!
      “What’s wrong,” Duane called from our bed.
     I woke up, flat on our wood floor, my hip throbbing. “Rodents of Unusual Size attacked.”
     Duane yawned. “You tell anyone that, and they’ll say you’re crazy.”
     Doesn’t he know these varmints thrive in the Fire Swamps of my most anxious times?
     I crawled back into bed, prayed for rest, and dozed off.
     The next day, First Daughter reported that her son was responding to breathing treatments. Second Daughter gave birth to a beautiful boy. And Third Daughter returned to her home after oral surgery, where I tucked her into bed. Duane and I hugged and cried happy tears of gratitude to God.
     I’m weary. My hip aches from falling out of bed. But I’m thankful my mother came alongside me in my unconscious mind.
     Because sometimes even a grown-up mother needs a mommy.

We drove the fourteen hundred miles to meet our new grandson in Alabama, where we saw a real R.O.U.S, called a nutria!