Fiorella has started taking down the Christmas decorations--slowly. Why should she hurry? After all, it took a month to get them up.
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Younger Son commiserated with us about Bowser, Daughter sent a link to the Austin animal shelter and even researched a couple of dogs for us, and Older Son phoned us from Minnesota because he was so concerned. Obviously, Fio and Husband have raised children with compassion, and what more can you ask for? It's what separates good people from bad, us from the beasts.
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Did Fio tell you that she seems to be recovering, that she's no longer using a cane? The orthopod said her hip will not get better, but something's happening. Maybe it's that Fio is exercising more, or maybe it's the pain pills she wallows in. Or maybe, being Fiorella and strong-minded, she's healing herself with positive thinking.
Showing posts with label Compassion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Compassion. Show all posts
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Compassion
Has Fio ever told you about the time she was stopped by the Highway Patrol?
About 7:30 one dark October night, Fio suddenly realized there was a swirling red and blue light behind her. Apparently she had been speeding. The officers came up to both sides of her car and yelled at her to open her doors, as if expecting some damning cargo. The lead officer ordered her to produce her license and proof of insurance. Her hands trembled she searched through her purse and the glove compartment, but she didn't cry.
He demanded to know where she was coming from. Fio took a deep breath and said that she was coming from Waco, where she had gone to sign the permission form for her father's brain surgery, that when she walked through the door, he didn't even know who she was. Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn't cry.
The officer got out of the car and repeated her words to his partner. Fio remained in the car, resigned to her fate. A speeding ticket would not be the worst thing that had happened to her that day.
The officer got back in the car, told her he hoped her father would recover, and handed her a warning notice.
That's when she cried.
About 7:30 one dark October night, Fio suddenly realized there was a swirling red and blue light behind her. Apparently she had been speeding. The officers came up to both sides of her car and yelled at her to open her doors, as if expecting some damning cargo. The lead officer ordered her to produce her license and proof of insurance. Her hands trembled she searched through her purse and the glove compartment, but she didn't cry.
He demanded to know where she was coming from. Fio took a deep breath and said that she was coming from Waco, where she had gone to sign the permission form for her father's brain surgery, that when she walked through the door, he didn't even know who she was. Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn't cry.
The officer got out of the car and repeated her words to his partner. Fio remained in the car, resigned to her fate. A speeding ticket would not be the worst thing that had happened to her that day.
The officer got back in the car, told her he hoped her father would recover, and handed her a warning notice.
That's when she cried.
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