A fairly typical morning
It was a morning like many before it and as many would be in the future.
Two children awoke to the urging of their mother; bleary eyes and messy heads slowly rose from their pillows.
“But I’m still tired,” one whined. “I refuse to believe it’s morning,” the other complained.
The mother insisted that, though the children were tired, morning it was and school would not be denied.
Dressing and the preparation and consumption of breakfast were uneventful. Lunches were made with some creativity born of desperate lack of funds and sheer boredom.
Teeth and hair were brushed, homework was checked, and then a dramatic discovery was made!
One item of homework was yet undone!
Hurriedly the older child ran to the mother’s computer to find a biography of Edgar Allen Poe and a copy of his poem “The Raven”. Once found, they were rapidly printed, and disaster was averted. (The mother had had experience with this sort of mishap before and now was used to allowing time for last-minute homework finishing activities.)
As time was nearing All Hallow’s Eve, a pumpkin was placed lovingly in a tote bag for the older child to take to school. (The younger child would be having an in-class party today, which this family’s funds did not help pay for since the funds were simply not there.)
Another last-minute bit of drama! Utensils were required for the older child to carve her pumpkin at school and none had been readied! A great rushing and rummaging commenced and, the specified items having been cobbled together, disaster was once again averted.
The children and the mother stumbled down the stairs, trying not to trip over kittens. They managed to exit the apartment while preventing the curious kittens from doing likewise. The matriarch of the cat family looked on disdainfully from the sofa.
Children and mother were ensconced in their conveyance, seatbelts were fastened, and driving began, with all necessary items being accounted for.
Casually, the mother inquired as to whether the older child had remembered her keys since the mother would be at school until evening. The older child’s face betrayed a feeling of dread and she angrily admitted she had forgotten them. A great gnashing of teeth (the mother’s) and spewing of venomous rage (the older child’s) filled the vehicle. (The younger child wisely remained quiet and waited for the storm to abate).
The mother remarked that she couldn’t give the older child her own keys, lest she, too, be unable to enter the family domicile. The older child was greatly aggrieved. The mother wracked her brain for a solution since time would not permit the retrieval of said child’s keys before the school bell should ring.
The mother had an epiphany as a solution was revealed to her: the older child would be dropped off at school (in a decidedly foul mood) and the mother and younger child would rush home. Once there, the mother would quickly fetch the forgotten keys and charge the younger child with their safe-keeping. He would then have them at the ready when the older child picked him up from school and this final disaster of the morning would be circumvented.
The mother, having completed the aforementioned crisis-management, then drove the younger child to school, depositing him at his classroom a mere three or four minutes late.
The mother returned to the car and drove home in an unhurried manner. Once parked under the carport of the apartment building in which she and her family dwelt, she sat for a moment in the car. She took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the chores and responsibilities yet to come during the day and nostalgically recalled peaceful summer mornings when alarm clocks and school lunches were unknown to the family.
She reflected that she was grateful the husband and father of the brood used his credit card to restock the household stores of coffee and half & half.
All would be well and life would continue, dramatically and peacefully, lovingly and angrily, dully and creatively, for those were the threads of the tapestry of her life.