A dull throb is washing over my head. . . again.  I drive silently in the chaos that is my children, cramped in a car, afterschool.  We bump up the muddy driveway with a splash.  I close my eyes for a moment when I shut off the Jeep. Inside supper is on the stove, husband stirring a sauce hears my tone of voice, "Mom doesn't sound happy."  "They were good." I say, "but my head is killing me."  After hanging up my coat I perch on the stool and try to listen, but soon retreat to the couch.  The pillow, tucked just right is a relief.  I drape my arm acrossed my forehead, the pressure of it seems to soothe.  Soon the voices of my family fade away, like the radio when I am busy, I don't hear their words can't focus on them, but the sound is a comfort. . . 


Beth said...

I have so much sympathy for you. This post reminds me of a similar one I wrote on Saturday: http://www.qualityeducator.net/blog/comfort/

I hope you feel better soon!

Amanda said...

I do hope you feel better soon!!

I love the line - "the chaos that is my children..." that is so true in my experience too! And isn't it always "squealing day" when you already feel blegh?!

The ending also creates a sense of comfort - great job making that shift over such few words!

Laura said...

Owie. Ouch.
I felt like I was getting a headache, so present were your words.