Here we go again!

Josiah has bronchitis!
I knew it at 7 this morning when I cracked my eyes open and saw him standing there, hands around his throat and tears and panic in his eyes.
"I can't breathe!" he wheezed out.
We went right into the bathroom and turned the shower and faucet on full blast and high heat.
Steam quickly filled the small room, and Josiah relaxed a bit.
A few minutes in there, and then out to the cold air-conditioned air.
It worked, for a while.
I called the doctor and the receptionist got him in this afternoon.
When we arrived, he still sounded like a little seal barking when he coughed, and his breathing was rattly.
The nurse frowned when she listened to his chest and back.
"I'll get a breathing treatment right away," she said.
Turns out, he indeed has bronchitis. Severe, the doctor said.
"His lungs are tight all the way down," she kept saying.
So, now he is on steroids, which make his little, beautiful heart beat so fast.
He is taking them in a syrup and through the nebulizer.
He's all hoarse, and sounds like a six-year-old godfather when he talks. Too cute, let me tell ya, even if it is heartbreaking!
So, we will be in for the next few days, resting and recovering.
Isaac went on to family dinner tonight without us.
Boy oh boy did I miss him.
I also missed me some ravioli and chicken Parmesan.
But Isaac, being the hero he so often is, brought home a big container of it!
Not that we were suffering.
I made pasta fagoli, and Josiah would rather eat that than about anything else on any given day.
He was pretty happy.
Silence has fallen on the house.
The boys are resting, sleeping, hopefully healing.
I sit, typing, and look out at the hot July moon, rising slow and wanning, it's edges smudged and softened by the haze.
The clock ticks on the wall behind me.
I think about things to do tomorrow.
Things to do with the rest of my life.
God is in this moment.
He is in all of them, but in this one, I can see him in the quiet majesty of the moonlight as it spills over the deck and in through the sliding glass doors; I hear him calling me to spend time. . . spend . . . time.
Tomorrow will take care of itself soon enough.
And the rest of my life . . . will just have to wait.
I am off to meet a friend. . .