By Jennifer Savage
We returned to Montana Tuesday after 14 days in South Carolina. We are relaxed, happy and readjusting to our lives here. Lucille is asleep after a long night with a high fever. Eliza is at preschool with a sack of seashells and more than a few stories about her relative who speak to her slow and sweet. I’m sitting here on our deck in Missoula feeling more and more at home in this house and wondering if the light shifted while I was away or if somehow, in two weeks, I forgot how drop-dead gorgeous it is in Montana.
Today all I want to do is sit in the sun, look at the brilliant blue sky and take long deep breaths. Here are a few things crossing my mind in my sleep-deprived haze.
Little Lucille seemed so pitiful in the middle of the night with a 103-degree temperature. She lay on my chest, her heart racing, her body working hard to get rid of whatever it is that is bringing her down. Bloody air travel, one friend said. And it’s true. “No like it,” Lucille kept saying in the middle of the night. “No like it, mama.”
Yesterday I went for a run, a long, needed run. I came home, showered quickly and threw on a pair of jeans. I went to the fancy fabric store downtown, the grocery store and even stopped for a sidewalk talk with young-single-climber guy about his broken ankle. I got home to realize I’d done all of this with my fly unzipped.
When driving past the Kettle House, our local, neighborhood brewery, the other day Lucille began to cry, “Kehouse, kehouse!” to which Eliza replied, “Mama, when I get to be a grown up, I want to drink beer.” This came quick on the heels of a comment last week, “Mama, when I get to be a grown up, can I say dammit?”
We sat on the runway for two hours on Monday while Delta tried to fix some problem with the fuel gauge on our plane. Lucille became that baby somewhere along the way and began letting out eardrum piercing screams. We got off soon after and rebooked for Tuesday but not before I saw the guy in front us text to someone, “ipod dead and i have 2 screaming children behind me pulling on my seat.”
Eliza said this morning after Lucille threw up all over the place, “Mama, if Lucille throws up again, you just let me know.”
Okay baby, I will.
Jennifer Savage is a writer and mama of Eliza and Lucille. Lately, she’s learning to be a city girl. She writes from her home in Missoula, Montana. She is also one of Mamalode’s favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at Savagemama.com Read more of Jennifer’s mamalode articles here
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[...] Little Lucille seemed so pitiful in the middle of the night with a 103-degree temperature. She lay on my chest, her heart racing, her body working hard to get rid of whatever it is that is bringing her down. Bloody air travel, one friend said. And it’s true. “No like it,” Lucille kept saying in the middle of the night. “No like it, mama.” Read More » [...]