When I was a child and I or one of my siblings would come down with some illness our mother would get us 7up and jello as our "sick food", sometimes we would also get chicken noodle soup, but always the jello and 7Up.
When I was in high school I came down with the flu, a rather vicious strain of it that had me up one nigh at all hours, miserable. Dad was gone on a two-week job driving truck, so all the care and responsibility for all six children lay on Mom's shoulders. 9 hours of her day she had spent working at the pants factory, the rest of the night she had been caring for us. I remember little else about that night but the site of Mom walking down the middle of the street illuminated only by the street light, wearing her robe and slippers, to buy a couple cans of 7up from the vending machine at the community center since it was 2am and all the stores were closed in our small town. She didn't complain, she didn't grouse, she just did it like it was the most normal thing for a woman to be out at the time of night armed with nothing but a handful of change and a flashlight.
As a mom, I have come to view that early morning walk as so much more than a quest for 7up. Each step, I know, resonated with love. She stepped out a cadence of "I love her, I will care for her, I will get her whatever she needs" so loudly that it beats still today within my heart...even as I sit here sick eating jello and drinking 7up (and gatorade) remembering that walk with gratitude and appreciation.
