Just another day

 "Happy Anniversary!"

The words, followed by a volley of digital fireworks, popped up on my phone at 8 a.m., which was an unusual time for my daughter to be attempting communication regardless of any twenty-year milestone. 

"Where are you going to dinner?"

But before I could type a gracious response that included all my motherly concern about her constantly shifting schedules, she had answered my question:

"I think I need to go to urgent care."

Ordinarily, my mind might have spun into orbit, bouncing around an infinity of possible scenarios in a panic, but my early intuition kept me tethered.

"Why? What's going on?"

"I got stepped on in Spike Ball last night. I can't walk today. University Health says I should get an x-ray."

"Foot? Ankle?"

"Knee."

"Ugh. It's always the knee."

I knew she wasn't as nonplussed as she sounded.

She would have waited until after the ER visit to tell me there was one.

But her friends were in class. And she was alone with a wonky knee that she couldn't use.

For the next several hours we exchanged messages while she waited for campus police to help her hobble from her third-floor dorm room to a medical center about a mile-and-a-half away. We kept texting as she waited in triage for an available slot; and as she waited to see the doctor, or maybe a physician's assistant, she wasn't sure. I stared at my phone watching the blank screen as we both waited for imaging to return a diagnosis and the inevitable instructions she should follow upon release.

It seemed like forever. And the text chain was a mile-long string of typos and half-answered questions.

When I finally called, she immediately started to cry.

She had been handling it, and my voice wasn't a comfort so much as another problem she had to figure out how to solve. The pressure, releasing in one unexpected explosion.

She immediately apologized.

I get it. I can't say that it felt nothing like a proverbial blow to the old breadbasket, but it was easily remedied by a few deep breaths and a forced grin.

 "I know. You are doing everything you need to do, and you will be fine. I just wanted to hear your voice so I can sort out what I need to be doing. ... if anything."

I felt certain I could still play an ancillary role as an advisor. I have, after all, sprained many important hinges between my head, shoulders, knees, and toes. "The day after an injury is always the toughest. Just take it easy and get some rest. Hopefully, it will feel better in the morning." 

She seems to have the same idea.

"Thanks, mom. I'm going to be fine. You just enjoy your anniversary... Where are you going for dinner?"

I didn't know. 

"Anywhere your brother wants to eat, I suppose," which is an answer that infuriates him as much as it does her.

"Whadaya MEAN! Where do I want to go? It's YOUR anniversary."

Sometimes you just want to celebrate with everyone you love.

"Like when your brother tells me later that it's weird not having you around to celebrate, I'll be able to tell him that I feel like I got to spend the day with you, too."