So many of you have graciously asked about the welfare of the number one son. He is completely out of the woods, totally fine, except from some nasty bruising. Of course, he looks so much better than he did, we are now caught off-guard as we are out and about and strangers are asking us , "What happened?" Or, as our waiter said the other day, "What does she look like?"
I did want to show you the columns. And, yes, for days I bit my tongue (and so did he, by the way) and kept myself from asking why he didn't roll off the sled. But then I did. He doesn't remember most of it, but shook his head and told me it just happened so fast.
Anyway, being Kansas City, it's amusing to tell the story and hear all the connections. "Verona Columns? My best friend grew up in that house." "I got engaged there." "We took our wedding pictures there." And the Blandings boy, someday, will drive by with the yet unidentified sweetheart and say, "See that column? I got a concussion there when I was eleven."
He doesn't know yet that it was his first taste of how life can come rushing at you too quickly to respond, or how a community, real and virtual, will rally around you and hope that everything turns out alright. But I do. Thank you so much for your concern. Happy New Year!
Labels: Musings from the Dream House