Troubles Abound

One thing Errol has taught me is that tragedy abounds. When you start to look for people with troubles you don’t have to venture far. From our house down to the next corner there are four cancer survivors (that we know about). Our ex-next door neighbor was a drug addict/dealer who sold her eight year old son’s clean urine to her drug addicted/tested friends. Down the next, a neighbor lost his wife of over fifty years, up the hill, a neighbor lost her son to drugs, and down the street, another neighbor lost her husband in a terrible accident. Our elderly neighbors seem isolated, lonely and not terribly thrilled about getting old (although it beats the alternative). And I’m not even mentioning the daily tragedies of burglaries, insomnia, divorce, financial peril, surly kids (not ours) and luke-warm coffee (it happens). I won’t go on, but I could.

And these are just the folks whose tragedies we know about. When you think about it, life is pretty unrelenting. It helps me to know that other people have been through the ringer, made it out alive, and every day, get out of bed, get dressed, and go on about their lives, mostly uncomplaining. (You don’t have much time to complain when you’re in the thick of it. The people I hear complaining don’t usually have any bigger problem than their VCR is broken). For our family, the bottom line is that we’re all alive (by the skin of our teeth) and that’s worth celebrating (which we do).

Our sweet little Errol certainly doesn’t see his life as tragic and almost never complains. I’ve never known a baby that cries less or smiles more than Errol. All the IVs, shots, nasal canulas, catheterizations, surgeries, physical therapy sessions (daily), NG tubes (don’t ask, you don’t want one), intubations, MRIs, X-Rays, doctor’s exams, trips to the ER, late night stomach aches, reflux, and ear infections leave him buoyant and ready for more of life. Every time he wakes up, as soon as he realizes he is alive, Errol starts to smile. We should all be so.