Something from Nothing

My daughter’s been sick for twelve days. By the afternoon, she’s tired but not sleepy. We can’t go out because she’s still feverish and contagious. My son awakens from his nap refreshed, only to hear that once again, we can’t go to the park or to a friend’s house. He was sick all last week. He understands, but still asks “Why, Mommy?”

Our art supplies are almost depleted. Our games, played out. I white-knuckle the hours between 3 and 5 pm. The kids are grumpy.  I try to stealthily answer emails. The children play for a few minutes, then fight, then want to be held, and then sometimes collapse crying. Oh, I realize. The Tylenol’s run out. I reload my daughter, try to get some dinner going, and grasp for an activity that will distract us from our cabin fever.

Yesterday, I found that we had three clean, untorn pieces of construction paper left in our wooden paper tray: red, blue, and black. I started cutting along the perimeter of one sheet, around and around until I reached the center. My daughter walked the thin strip of paper backwards as I cut, to see if we could make a piece long enough to reach the walls confining us. Fourteen feet later, we discovered that the answer was yes.

Nietzsche said “God is dead.”  I say God is very much alive. I have pictures to prove it.