Thanks for the Cold, Kid. Actually, Really. Thanks.

Naomi Hawkins-Rowe

Ask my six-year-old for a bite of his ice cream and you’ll get a cold stare that could refreeze the polar caps. (Which is really what he should employ that skill for.) Oddly enough it’s when I ask him NOT to share that he’s all too happy to oblige with the opposite of my request. Kids! I should have prefaced this post with a warning. I’m loopy as all get out with a cold at the moment. My son wouldn’t share his ice cream, but aches and a cough are apparently the gift du jour.

I was frustrated at first when I felt the first symptoms coming on. The initial two weeks of WBM were going pretty well but then my writing last week consisted of sprints between procuring orange juice and reading Guinea Pig: Pet Shop Private Eye 10,000 times to my son and hiding in the bathroom so I could finish a thought. For days I chanted to myself: Don’t get sick! Don’t get sick! Don’t get…ah, man!! Last week I was caring for a sick  kid and now this week, I’ll be caring for myself.

I get that people hate cliches, regardless if their history is interesting. But bear with me, I’m going to drop one in this post, take it or leave it. Ready? Here goes:  Every cloud has a silver lining.

The cloud obviously being my cold. The silver lining? I’ve got no excuse but to rest in bed and write when I’m not tranquilized (with honey & peppermint tea of course!!! Geez!) or sawing logs. Right now I have a basket of journals and notes and my laptop at the ready next to my bed. Everything else is going to spiral into decay. Some things you need to let go of. But I’m going to end this final WBM week Young Guns style: in a blaze a glory, my handkerchief in my holster and a flask of tea in hand. (There may or may not be some Bon Jovi blaring.)

I’ll keep this short and sweet (HAHAH! Cliches, am I right!?) because I’ve got one eye open and it’s not doing much good. I’d like to thank my son for sharing his cold instead of his ice cream. For real! Because now I have to slow down. The gift du jour was the gift I needed.  My body had done all it could. Now I just need to figure out how to program his robot, Dash, to bring me OJ.

I hope your month has been productive so far and that this last week of Write By Midnight is as well. And I hope you stay well and clear headed. But if not there’s always that silver lining.

Go rock some words!

One response to “Thanks for the Cold, Kid. Actually, Really. Thanks.

  1. Pingback: Write by Midnight 2020 Roundup | write owls

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