I have spent the better part of a week now moving at warp speed. The world has been a blur of movement around me as I’ve scrambled to find my footing atop a rapidly shifting landscape.
Survival mode is exhausting. Anxiety has stolen any hope of peaceful sleep. The constant whir of activity and stress has eclipsed any time or motivation I may have had to exercise. I’ve been eating like I have a tip on a famine. Bottom line – I feel like crap and I look worse. The dark circles under my eyes are buying His and Hers towels.
On Saturday morning, I was sitting in the big chair behind the desk in our office seeking escape on the computer screen. As I surfed through blog land, Brooke rooted around in the drawers of the hutch along the wall. Her little hands overflowed with what she had found there.
Clutching her loot, she made her way over to where I sat. She swung a knee up onto the edge of my chair and pushed my body ever so slightly forward. She lifted her cupped hands to my neck and emptied their contents down the back of my shirt.
A handful of AA batteries made their way down my back and spilled out the bottom of my shirt onto the chair below. Without a word, Brooke scooped them back up. She lifted them up under my t-shirt and into the center of my back where she pressed them into my skin.
Holding them there, she peered around to look at my face. She was checking, I suppose, to see if it had worked.
Had Mama been successfully recharged by a handful of Duracells?