The Finger

imagebot (6)I picked up the phone. My husband was on a conference call and had already missed his call waiting twice. “This is Sherry from preschool. Your son hurt his finger and the nail has ripped off. He’s been a trooper so far but can you come?”

“We’ll be right there.” We were already in the driveway, on our way to pick the other car from the mechanic’s. We headed straight for preschool as I cursed the 15 minutes it takes to get there. We finally arrived, jumped out of the car and they took us to him. He held up his thumb and started to cry as I picked him up. A Band-Aid hung loosely around his thumbnail. His thumbnail hung loosely at the top of his finger and his hand was covered with blood. The preschool director explained to my husband that the kids were cleaning up and a little girl dropped a block on his finger. He’d asked them for the Band-Aid. She gave us a wet washcloth to wrap around his finger to absorb the blood. read more

Dad’s latest accident or A New York minute

old_man-2Friday morning, while it was still dark, my husband rolled over in bed and picked up the phone, “Hello?” he groaned. “Oh, yeah. Okay. Okay, it’s very early here. Okay. Hold on. Let me fill her in.” He turned to me. “Your dad’s in the hospital. He fell last night and he called 911. The cop called me. He said it wasn’t serious and not to wake you.” He handed me the phone.

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