Not Every Day Can Be Perfect

by - April 20, 2015

We had a beautiful weekend, basking in family and friends into wee hours - laughing enough to earn new wrinkles, and bodies hurting with cheated sleep and heavy eyes.  BUT too many late nights is a sure way to empty a child of their sweetness.  Even in silence they are growly today - painting their faces in all manner of 'Back off, momma!'

Too many late nights is a sure way to empty a child of their sweetness

They sit at the table while I reheat leftovers for dinner, one trying to tell the other of some wonderful new level they've reached in their ever important gaming world.  "Just be quiet, Zander! I don't care!" Liam spits across the table.

"You're being an idiot!" Zander spits right back.

"Hey!" I call out, turning from stirring the gravy, dripping it on the floor and my sock.  They freeze and glare at me.  "What does that make you?" I ask Zander.

His jaw works and anger darts from his eyes in frantic beams of chaos.  I hold his gaze as if I've shackled his eyes to mine.  Slowly he softens.  It's like watching a flower turn to the sun.  "It makes me a bully," he says quietly.

"And Liam," I say.  "What does that make you, talking to your brother like that?"

"Mean," he says.

"Right.  Mean."

I serve them their plates and we hold hands like we like each other.  Noa prays and we eat quietly.  "We're all tired," I finally say.  "It's early to bed tonight."

No one argues.  They know.  I can see it in the shadows that hang beneath their eyes.

Not every day can be perfect.  

But every day can be redeemed.

"I love you," I say to each of them as I tuck them in - even that big thirteen year old who doesn't think he needs me anymore.

"Love you too," they each say back and I'm sure they mostly mean it.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

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© Alanna Rusnak