Things are uncomfortably calm. I want to relax, take it all in. But something tells me not to get used to it. I think my body is preparing for Sarah's loss and that's why I can't sit still. Things have been good lately, relationship wise. Health wise, not so much. Two out of four sick people in the family, I'm taking care of everyone. Bonnie needs her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She needs me to switch the cold rag on her head every hour and to continuously change the temperature because it's either too hot or too cold. I have to give Sarah her medicine, get her to school, pick her up, and do her homework with her. I have to take care of Rocky all day. Make sure the kids brush their teeth and have their baths. Cleaning house has become something I do when Rocky is preoccupied with Bubble Guppies, Sarah is at school, and Bonnie has fallen asleep. There's hardly time for that.
"I hope I get better soon," Bonnie says, "I want to be helping take care of the kids."
"You'll get better," I promise.
I haven't had time to itch for the Monster. I haven't had time to think about Jupiter. Not that I would want to do either of those things. I just want a healthy family, why is that too much to ask?
Rocky naps on the couch as Sarah plays with her Bratz and watches Signing Time. She mimics the sign language taught to her on the screen. I see this as an opportunity to sneak to Bonnie.
I walk in the room and she lays there, looking so pale. Her smile reassured me.
We lay there staring at the ceiling. I don't keep track of the time. Her hands reach over mine. They don't feel like they used to. They're sweaty, yet cold. The spark of worry I have gets brighter. I notice her hair is thinning. She's complained of stress.
I don't know how to keep going. I take everything day by day, minute by minute. Everything is just slow. The same routine, every day. A part of me wishes it could last forever, I can be with my family every day. I don't mind practically slaving all day cooking, cleaning, taking care of everyone if it means I can spend another day with them.
I want this to last, but I know it won't.