Phillipa Georges woke up Monday morning. She was expecting her son for late
morning coffee, (he would be bringing the customary babka from Gerdes Bakery.)
But she could still feel the wheeze in her chest and worried it might be the
start of yet another episode that would land her in the ER in the middle of the
night.
She lay in bed a few more moments, trying to decide whether
or not to call Aaron and cancel their plans. But the thought of chocolate babka and hazlenut vanilla
coffee, was too overpowering. In
the rays of sunlight sneaking through her heavy velvet drapes, she made a
decision not to call. She would
pull herself into her chair, roll across the apartment into the bathroom, run
hot water for a long soak, and carefully lower herself into the tub, in hopes
it would calm the rattles and rales in her chest. She would breathe in the
orange and eucalyptus oils and rub her useless legs and suspend her knowledge
of the world beyond her door for just a little while.
Yes, it was decided.
She could get this day going, despite the ominous sounds in her breath,
and wash and dress for her son, so that she could sit with him, in her den, as
they used to so often, and just talk.
Her son was coming to visit and all she needed to do was get into her
chair, roll across to the tub, run the water, lower herself in, and feel good again.
That’s all she had to do.
Until she remembered.
The plumber would not be there to fix the drain until two.
Exhausted, she turned over, and fell back into a restless
sleep.
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