This morning I am allowed to have routine. I am able to awaken to the sounds of my cell phone alarm and sit for at least ten minutes in meditation after brushing my teeth. Dirk breathes easily in continued slumber. Hearing Ian in the shower, I know he's up and getting ready for the routine in his day. I am solid in the knowing that Bennie is still asleep in her bed, but needs to get up. And so I enter her room, lights on, lunch money tallied to awaken her our favorite way via ferret under the covers. A paper bag with a ferret inside allows us a few moments of giggles before I leave her room to go down stairs. I am grateful Tom is still sleeping in his bed and shouldn't need to go anywhere today as he is done with college for the semester. How lucky am I to talk him out of driving north for a friend because of the weather? Such a blessing to come to my messy kitchen ~ Ian baked cookies last night ~ and put on my soaked oats on the stove for this morning's breakfast. I am allowed to turn on all my xmas cheer, tree lights, hall lights, lights on the stairs . . . I can bask in this manic, ethereal glow.
We, in this country and perhaps in further reaches, are acutely, painfully aware of those who can not have such blessed routine this Monday morning. It has been stolen from them, torn from their grasp in an event that changed their lives. They can not know these simple joys. Irrevocable. Speechless. How long will it be before the families in Newtown can be blessed with routine? And there is nothing you or I can do for them. We can only hold them in thoughts and prayers until that time. A prayer that they too can know routine, safe and abiding, again.