The call came in the dark of the night. With three children one answers the phone, no matter the time. Tomorrow, this rush of energy in response, will be paid for, bones will ache and muscles will refuse to respond. Apparent calm reigns now, but externally only, as the blood pressure increases and the heart thumps in its cavity.
This is not the first rude awakening. That was forty year ago now, the call coming to the shop in the middle of a very nice sale of the latest Frigidaire (“better than ever before”). All followed by a pathetic journey to Holdsworthy, and the tugging of the forelock to Fairhall - bitter chipping away at the concept of self as a pillar of the establishment.
Would parenting never cease? Would this journey ever end? But to end might be more than the heavy heart can bear, and continuation mere blessing.