The Best Medicine

Nine long hours after our family lost a loyal, beloved family member, I finally laughed. It wasn’t a hearty chuckle or a silly giggle: It was a true laugh, one that crinkled my nose and came from the depths of my belly.
My eyes were puffy from crying all day, and each time my eyelids closed, it felt as if someone were rubbing my eyes with sandpaper. I could barely keep my eyes open when they hit sunlight, but my focus at the moment was enjoying the sound of my children’s laughter.

Fourteen years after the big ball of caramel fur with paws came bounding out of the white Firebird, Emerald Liberty Akers (Emma for short) passed. She was a loyal golden retriever, a hefty dog whose entire backside whipped from side to side when she wagged her tail.
I had received the news while at work and sobbed uncontrollably. I could barely contain my tears and held back several gasps of breaths that threatened to turn into cries, while answering phones. I couldn’t take it anymore and left, driving home with tears rolling down my cheeks. I came home and the sound of my children’s voices soothed me a bit. I closed my eyes for 10 minutes and quite literally, not to sound cliche, woke up hoping that the earlier events were just my imagination. No such luck.
After throwing together a dreadful dinner, I decided to stop being depressed and enjoy the beautiful day. I got the girls dressed: Emmy in pigtails and sunglasses she insisted on wearing, and Natalie in shorts, a tee-shirt and a tutu ponytail holder. We walked, sometimes holding hands, to the playground at the local elementary school, stopping occasionally to admire the flowers (read: weeds), an ant or two trucking along, and an abandoned, shredded aluminum can. When we approached the fence to the playground, my girls shrieked in delight and padding as fast as they could in their sneakers, ran to the playground. I secretly thanked the convenience of a playground nearby, glad to give the girls something to do while giving me the peace of mind to come to terms with Emma’s death. The girls climbed up stairs, slid down slides, sat on a four-way teeter-totter that Natalie calls an airplane, ran around the perimeter of the blacktop and pretended to play hopscotch.

They quickly became bored with all of the things they had already conquered when Natalie asked to ride the tire swing. I was leery, because after all, putting a 2-year-old and 4-year-old on a tire suspended by thick chains and no other means of support, scared me. But I humored them and sat on the ground to snap pictures. My intentions were to swing them lightly and the first time I pushed them, they squealed with laughter, their eyes wide open and their mouths in a wide smile. They kept prodding me to push faster, Mommy, faster. Spin, Mommy, spin. Each time I pushed, it was a little faster, a little harder, until I felt they were ready to really swing. I stopped the swing, twisted the chains, then pushed. They turned and turned, Emmy’s head leaning on her sisters, both girls gripping the chains, and both girls laughing their heartiest laugh loudly and at length.

That’s when it happened. I laughed right along with them. I smiled, my eyes squinting not from burning and puffiness, but from grinning. On such a sad day, when I wanted to do nothing but lay in bed, cry and sleep, my children healed me. Their laughter, happiness, simplicity and innocence is the best medicine for those around them, including me.

I realized then, as the evening sun set on that beautiful day, that life will come and go. People we love will come in and out of life in a heartbeat, expected or not. Instead of dwelling on the pain, the sadness, anger, frustration, embracing the time shared with loved ones. Enjoy every second, because that second is like no other second. And laugh.

Sisterly Love: Fact or Fiction?

My girls are the best of friends. My girls are also the worst of enemies. I have never seen a dynamic duo such as Natalie, 4 (a.k.a. Drama Dana), and Emelia, 2 (Tattle Tessy).

These two darling girls with such an angelic exterior and a sincere interior, can flip switches to tiny terrors in tutus.

I used to spend time making a nice, healthy supper. It would take me awhile, but the girls would allow me that time to make supper. It didn't matter that usually, Emmy would spit it out and say "yuck." It was my time. HOWEVER, Emmy couldn't walk during those days and Natalie was a little more cooperative. These days, mac and cheese is the cuisine, maybe a hot dog here and there or cold cuts. That's as far as my culinary skills reach before meltdowns occur between the girls.

How well the girls get along depends on the length of their naps, their hunger level, weather, barometric pressure and the location of the moon. Some days, they are hateful to each other, crying and screaming at each other until my very last nerve quivers on the edge of breaking. Some days, Natalie is annoyed easily by her youngest sister (who simply adores her, by the way). Emmy could scoot five feet away to Natalie and Natalie will yell for her to stop touching her (as a matter of fact, this type of fight is occurring as I type). Emmy may swat at the air 10 feet away from Natalie, and Natalie will scream, "Mommy, she hit me." Natalie, on the other hand, still hasn't learned the art of sharing with her youngest sister, so often, Emmy's complaints are that Natalie isn't taking turns. It's nerve-wracking, brain-busting but sometimes can be oh so funny, especially when seeing how far they are from each other and still blame each other for violent acts.

Other days, my darlings are the closest of friends, and their laughter--the real, gut-busting laughter--fills their toy room. On these days, they can chase each other for hours, giggling, without fighting. They can play dolls and really interact, having conversations (though Emmy's vocabulary is still growing), and role-playing. They conspire, dream and wish together, and on rare occassions, every question you ask Natalie, she will answer with a, "Well, because my sister is my best friend, I want milk."

I remember the relationship with my brother wasn't so hot growing up and I wish I could change that. We're close now, but unfortunately, we lost a lot of time and memories together. I hope my girls can share and dream, live, love and laugh, and continue to be the best of friends and yes, the worst of enemies.