I am keeping a close eye on young Teapot today. He has a runny nose and a cough, and I'm listening out for the moment when his cough takes on the unmistakable tight ring of an asthma hack. He is snuggled under a heated blanket on the lounge watching Sesame Street with his big sister. I am thinking about setting up a big craft table this morning, but first, I must get through these tears.
I can't stop thinking about the two children tragically orphaned this week when their parents Kathleen and Rob Rickertson drowned. I have a kids cookbook, made by this family, that I downloaded and printed out for my little chef Ted on his 4th birthday. It features Orlando and Otilija throughout, as they make and describing their favourite recipes. I loved these kids. Mine love to cook too. I imagined Ivy and Ted and George, years ahead, with their own specialities, taking over the kitchen.
These two kids were so cherished and so nourished by their parents, and their loss is unimaginable. There is a online trust set up for them here where we can donate, and they have, I am sure, a wonderful and loving extended family to care for them. But the particular, intense gaze of their parents, and the dreams of their family unit: these are gone.
Life takes turns, unexpectedly. We cannot see around corners. We are not all fated to live long and prosper. We are not.
Now is what we have. Useless tears for Orlando and Otilija, who have lost the watchful eyes of their parents on them as they grow, what money we can spare for their future, and hugs, especially tight, for our own children today.