Time is squeezed tight these days. We’ve been quarantined in our home with our two boys for 197 days (not that I’m counting). We’ve dealt with our share of drama and heartache and death like most people in these six months. Same storm, different boats as they say. We’re all having this shared experience, but the way it looks and feels for each of us seems so different at times.
Here’s a scene from this morning. It’s 7:50 am on a sunny Thursday morning in central Florida. My husband has just taught my eight year old how to play the beginning riff of “Smoke On The Water” on the electric guitar.
Yesterday at an annual checkup as the nurse was checking my ears I asked, “How do they look? I had a really bad ear infection about a month ago and my ears are still pretty sensitive.”
“Your ears look fine.” she smirked. “You just have sons.”
Fifteen minutes after this morning’s guitar lesson, the volume increases significantly. I hear my kid shout from across the house, “All I need to sound good is to turn it up!”