I remember a time when I packed 7 lunches every morning. Seven sandwiches (some peanut butter and jelly, one just jelly, one ham - no cheese, one ham and cheese) all cut into triangles. Seven bags of pretzels. Seven bags of carrots. Seven pieces of string cheese. Seven little notes written with love and tucked behind the napkins.
Every single morning. It was exhausting and I dreaded it.
All my kids are big now. Four in college. Two in high school (they pack their own lunch - if they pack one at all). And one in middle school, 6th grade. I wanted to go have lunch with her at school today.
"Hey! (trying to sound like this will be the funnest thing ever) How about I pick up Chick-fil-A and come have lunch with you today?"Ouch. That one stung.
"I don't have to stay and eat with you. How about I just drop it off (figuring I'd end up staying anyway)?"
"MOM. NO. I don't want you to."
She's getting bigger. She's growing up. It's a good thing. I know this. I just don't like it.
Tomorrow I go to Richmond to be admitted for a life-saving bone marrow transplant. I'll be in the hospital for a month or so. Then I'll need to live "within 30 minutes of the hospital" (their rule, not mine) for 2-4 months, depending on how well I'm doing. It will be months before I will get to bring my daughter lunch at school. Months before I will get to pack her a lunch.
So, when I packed her lunch this morning, I didn't dread it. I cherished it.
Such a simple little thing, an ordinary, everyday thing. Packing a lunch. But it meant the world to me today.
The ordinary is what I will miss the most.