Last night, slumped against the refrigerator, I began a litany of complaints that tried the patience of all who came into contact with me, until I thought of composing a little ditty that went like this:
Maybe I will become a cockroach.
Maybe I will become a banana peeler.
Maybe I will become the vitamins inside a bottle of water.
Maybe I will become a necklace.
Maybe I will become a doctor.
Maybe I will become a lawyer.
Maybe I will become a drumset.
Maybe I will become a chicken with it's head cut off.
Maybe I will become a Queen.
Maybe I will become a saw.
Maybe I will become an axe.
Maybe I will become a cereal bowl.
Maybe I will become a potato chip factory worker.
Maybe I will become a garbageman (sanitation worker.)
Maybe I will become a bowtie.
Maybe I will become green tea.
Maybe I will become ice cream.
Maybe I will become a warrior.
Maybe I will live in a cardboard box forever and ever.
To which Taran replied: There's always Charlie (reference to the homeless man who wanted to go out with me.) And later- You'll be all warm and snuggly in that cardboard box.
Anyway, after spending a good thirty minutes assuring me that I will not be a failure at life, Taran arose from his spot at the kitchen table- at which point I anxiously asked, "Where are you going?" - clasped my hand and informed me that we were going for a walk. "A walk?" I questioned. "A stroll," he replied, as he led me up the stairs and in the direction of my room. We paused for a moment outside of the Boys' bathroom. Urchin was cleaning his ears. "Maybe I will become a Q-Tip!" I said brightly. "How much Bud Light has she drunk?" Urchin questioned Taran, who simply shook his head wisely and led me up the next flight of stairs to my room. Dustfinger had esconced herself by my computer and was typing feverishly. Taran ignored her. He turned on my Shabbos lamp, took me to my bed, and then suggested to me that I get into bed and lie down. My head was still pounding- it had been pounding consistently. But I lay down in bed, after which my brother solicitously covered me up with the comforter, removed my glasses and placed them on the teddybear sitting on my nightstand, and then, taking out his book, proceeded to read aloud to me.
He read for a good ten to fifteen minutes and slowly, my headache dissipated. Dustfinger was still typing away at the computer, illuminated only by its blue glow; Taran was reading and Urchin had brought his book, Brisingr, to read as well, though quietly. I watched Taran as he sat on my bed and read to me by the light of the Shabbos lamp, and slowly my fears ebbed away and it seemed like, no matter what happened, it would somehow be all right so long as I was assisted by the good temper and good humor of my incorrigible brothers and sister.
At about 11:30 I determined that we should all go to sleep, and bade Taran to shut the light, but they did not depart before we had a beautiful conversation in which I rediscovered the depth and wit of my siblings, who have combined a talent for being exceedingly humorous with that of understanding situations and people very well. There, in the dark, with one of them having swiveled about to face us in my computer chair, while the others sat on my bed and I lay down and looked at them in the night, I realized- yet again- how lucky I am.
Thank God for the Boys- & The Girl.