Well, where were we?

I managed to sleep a good four hours, but then woke to Betty saying she was "shaking again." The nurse suggested it might be due to the lidocaine. I got her some hot water, used the bathroom, and when I returned, she felt much better, had stopped shaking. Not being able to fall asleep again immediately, I decided it was time for an update, so aren't you lucky! In my grogginess, I imagined myself in very old film footage, the kind used for home videos or news reels in the Thirties or so. Sped up, jumpy, grainy, overexposed. There I was, on a city sidewalk at midday, in front of my small business, handing cigars and pats on the back to my friends as we made cheesy, machu poses for the camera. "I'm a father now, you hear, and that's my daughter, greatest thing in the world, and I'm the luckiest SOB in the world, now have a cigar!" Why let Hollywood's inveterate melancholy and leeching cynicism about marriage and the family rob me of my divine right to be archly proud of my offspring and atavistically loyal to my wife? Drama and woe sell, but the small way of humility, simplicity, and piety is the path of everlasting life.

Last night after 11, I went for a walk to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. It greatly calmed and encouraged me, and I came back to Betty feeling like a decent enough husband, and like at least a basically striving Catholic. This Lent has been harder for me than others of recent memory. That's all for the good, however, since it may suggest I'm taking up that much more of my share in the Cross. As we pray during the Stations, "We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, because by Your holy cross, You have redeemed the world."

Betty's sleeping now, so I'll shut up and imagine myself having a cigar.