Seasoned in trauma, heading northbound back to Children's hospital from the crisis center and knowing the routine, I did a quick check: It's 1:45 p.m., we haven't had lunch, it's going to be a long afternoon. I had better get an emergency cup of coffee, my warm and familiar companion, and grab lunch for both of us.
Pulling through McDonald's drive-thru ... "WOW! You are FABULOUS! Your car ... your hair ... your sunglasses! I bet you have a fabulous life!!" This was an A-list celebrity experience.
I sit a little straighter, smile a little brighter, then *sigh* at the pretty little girl hanging out the drive-thru window taking in what she believes looks like a fabulous life and gently needing to remind her that what she is seeing is so surface.
Warm smile ... "Thank you, you are so kind. My life is far from fabulous right now," I gently tell her.
I could see my words fell on deaf ears because she is still leaning out the window and taking everything in with her eyes wide and smiling.
How ironic, driving my daughter to the hospital for the 6th time I have learned to go from broken, panic, and tears a year ago to numb, smiling, and preparing for a long afternoon.
I would like to thank life and corporate America for learning how to smile while looking polished, professional, and put together when hell breaks loose.
The few weeks of peace and normalcy has ended.
