Saturday morning... and I am making my own latte (which wasn't great but wasn't bad either) and trying to remember how to make Cream of Wheat so it isn't runny. The Cream of Wheat is boiling over, making a sticky mess all over the stove, and I am lost in thoughts of my new life, new opportunities, new challenges.
And the phone rings. It's my sister. "Have you checked your text messages today?" Uh, No.
"Mom just sent a text; Dad is in intensive care." Excuse me?
My father is not a healthy man - I know that. He never completely recovered from his triple bypass surgery and he didn't have that surgery because everything was just hunky dory. If you know what I mean.
And so my day has gone from lofty thoughts about living a disciplined life and stretching budgets and making the most of every day to the idea that life is sacred and profoundly limited. That it can end at any point. That I could lose my Dad.
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