Yesterday turned out to be a busy day! Set to dash off to NYC for one friend, my plans were thwarted by weather. I'd taken a personal day, though, and I had no plans of letting it go to waste.
I did all the teacher-like things we all normally do, trudging in early to set my desk up for the sub, re-arranging the previous day's schedule on the board for the kids, checking in on emails before I snuck out. And then, the door opened, and my custodian friend, Rich, rolled a cart filled with empty copier boxes in. I was super grateful, because with Grandma's house to empty out, those boxes have been a Godsend.
When I got home, my friend Jerry's ladder was up against my roof. Hallelujah! Let the chipping and cracking and dripping begin! The walls inside my house have been bubbling up and the buckets too, have been filling up too. But help is always on the horizon, and I always have to remember to just ask. Asking is an act of humility, one I'm learning to use now at this point in my life.
A half hour after I got home, another guy named Jeff appeared with a snow shovel, and he began to clear the four feet of snow on either side of the walkway out. I could breathe a little easier, knowing next week's melt-off wouldn't paralyze my husband, holding him hostage for another week inside. This business of asking really is a good thing.
Later on I took my boxes and drove to Grandma's house and worked alongside my sister-in-law, who now, after all these years, is really a sister to me. We sorted and lifted and straightened, and we cleared out a small portion of the stuff that Grandma couldn't part with while she was alive. Emptying is such an emotional thing!
So, last night, after a day filled with mini-emotional rides, I called a couple of friends, and asked them to grab a pizza at a local restaurant in the center of Sandy Hook. Many new restaurants have sprung up, and we've noticed Vito's place, the Villa, could use a little boost. And even though, nothing remarkable happened, and it was just another part of our come-as-you-are Friday thing...we sat in that restaurant until ten...we laughed, and poked fun, and talked about the Yankees and Mets and about the Jets big trade.
And all that laughter led me to think again about Grandma again, her wide, sweeping front porch and how many times that place was filled with all that sweet, Irish sound of laughter too. Laughter is healing. And for it sure is in that lilt...as the song goes, that you can hear the angels, like Grandma, sing!