This morning at the library

Julianna is getting tired, Alex's ibuprofin is wearing off, and it's about time to leave when I hear a solid "THUMP" from the children's stacks, and a woman starts repeating, "Oh no, oh my God, oh no, oh my God." Over and over, this dull panicky tone of voice, not screaming--just that particular timbre that brings people running. I realize that her kid has bumped his or her head. And I can't help thinking, Calm down, lady, it's just a bump on the head. We've had five this morning already.

When my children and I pass the children's desk on the way out, she's got a 5 month old baby over her shoulder, a girl on her way into unconsciousness (or sleep, who knows?), and the mother is on the phone with 911 saying that she was carrying too much and the baby slipped out of her hands and fell 5 feet.

By the time we make it outside I know that the distant sound of sirens is headed right for us. Alex is jumping up and down. "Can I see the fire truck? Can I see the fire truck?" So we stop at the corner and wait for them to arrive. A ladder truck (why, I don't know), and a Universtity Hospital ambulance scream around the corner, not twenty feet from us. It's surreal to be excited for Alex and covering Julianna's ears, simultaneously hoping that that woman really is flipping out for no reason whatsoever.

And all the way to the van, I can't talk around the lump in my throat.


love me