The Day I Will Never Forget-Warning Parents You will Hug Your Kids

Just typing the title brings tears to my eyes. I have to pause before I can type again.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

It started off like any other Summer Saturday. We all slept in, the coffee was brewed, my husband took his coffee and the paper to the backyard. Gabriel and the dog, Arlo, followed. I lagged behind a little, grabbed a magazine after setting my coffee down on the bar counter in the tv room.

Deep breathe, and out. Slowly.

I heard it...Just typing that makes me fold my hands in prayer and I operate as an agnostic. Michael must have dropped a patio chair, maybe one of the gardening tools came down. I was still inside the house. I heard it...

Michael yelled my name. It hadn't occurred to me, how could it. I wasn't afraid. I walked outside.

My baby was on the concrete. On his back. Not moving. A broken arm I told myself. We have our first break.

Deep breathe, and release. Slowly.

"Get the keys" my nurse husband said. He had fear in his voice. This was not a break. My husband grew up sewing wounds with fishing line and pulling bullets from friends. This was not a broken arm. His tone told me so.

We live 10 minutes from Southwest Hospital. It made no sense to wait for an ambulance. We'd be at the ER before they arrived.

I grabbed my keys. I don't remember letting the dog back in, but somehow we did. Gabriel. My baby. He wasn't moving. He wasn't responding.

The noise...the noise...the noise was his head hitting the concrete path in our back yard. His head hitting the concrete path...in our backyard. He was playing with the dog. They collided. He flipped. He landed on his head. The noise...

Breathe. In and out. Deep Breathe and Exhale.

I didn't stop at any lights on the main road. The police could ticket me in the ER parking lot. I beeped as I ran one, then two, then three red lights.

Breathe. In and out.

Thoughts raced in my head. What if... What if... What if... I can't type the thoughts.

Breathe...he's still not moving...in and out.

What's that noise? Gabriel. He spoke. He had heard the horn.

Michael rushed him in ER while I parked.

I ran in. Security was waiting for me. Please walk, don't fall. He's in here. He was a dad, I knew he was. He had to be, he read the anguish on my face and the thoughts in my mind.

My husband was watching as every ER doctor and nurse on duty surrounded our son. He looked so tiny. I watched from the entrance to the room.

My husband's fists were clenching and his arms still. He didn't know how to be in ER and not be a nurse. He didn't know how to be a dad and not be a nurse. Not helping, not leading the people just like him caring for our son. He did way better than I would have in his shoes.

Actually, he was barefoot. They kept trying to get him to put the hospital slippers on his feet. It took awhile to register what he was holding in his hands.

He's moving all limbs the nurse said as she turned around to face us. She was a mom, she read my face. Come on, she said and called me to the bed. She knew I wouldn't believe it until I saw for myself.

He squeezed my hand, he moved his feet. Why are you crying, mommy?

Gabriel has no recollection of this event. The doctor's said he probably wouldn't.

But as the weather changes... Gabriel and his dog are playing outside today.

I remember. Deep breathes, and exhale. Slowly.

Mom, mom, I need 4 straws and a beaker. Gabriel we don't have a beaker. Mom, hurry! I hand him 4 straws and as he runs back outside, he shouts behind him, mom, Arlo is waiting by the door for me. He loves me.

Deep breathes, and exhale.

I can't hold his hand forever. But I do wish I could.

The Elevator Announced My Floor

My first job out of college was at a Cleveland based Law Firm located in the BP Building. I had sent my unsolicited resume to HR, interviewed and landed the job before it was ever posted. I started my post college life as a Legal Assistant/Paralegal. I thought I would go to law school.

My first impression of the building upon arrival for my first interview, was holy smokes the elevator talks. I think this was a main motivator for working there. I had never been in an elevator that spoke before.

I felt very grown up working downtown, living on my own, wearing business clothes every day, and I never got tired of the elevator telling me what floor I was on. I took the bus every day, except when running late and then I would drive. Despite my mid 20s salary, I would park in the BP Garage, $12 a day. It was not a smart expenditure. Walking into the building from the garage in my business clothes with all the other suits, made me feel special. Never mind that I got out of a sporty Saturn and they mostly drove BMWs. I really miss that Saturn by the way.

For the last several years, I have gotten my hair cut in The Arcade (see previous posts). This worked great when I worked downtown. I'd stroll over after work or on lunch. My car was already parked as 99% of the time I drove to work, mostly business casual attire, salary not in the mid 20s.

Now, I have to drive and park for the purpose of a hair cut (love my hair guy that much and not just because he's easy on the eyes). Most of the time I manage to find street parking. Sometimes I park in the lot I used to park in for work, but if there is an event, the jacked up price is more than I am willing to pay. This past time I was going to valet as I had the time before, cheaper than any of the lots if there is an event.

I don't have much patience, probably less so behind the wheel, so when the valet was backed up with no real chance of taking my car in the next 5-10 minutes, I did what anyone, who was going to be late for an appointment, would do...I reversed down Superior and pulled into the BP lot. It's $5 on Saturdays, assuming no events.

After my hair appointment, I entered the BP Building to withdraw money from my bank's ATM. Afterall, I had to get out of the parking lot. I hadn't been in the building for a few years. I hadn't entered the building from the garage in over a decade.

I won't lie, I felt cool when I entered the building. I was taken back to my 22 year old self. Plus, damn did my hair look good. I went to the ATM and then I walked into the building's atrium, I always loved the plants, it felt like you were in a park. I stayed for a few minutes and then went back to my car. The rest of my day needed to happen and it wasn't taking place in the atrium of the BP Building.

As I walked back to my car, I thought about how long ago it all seemed. A few months before I left the firm for another job, they had offered me an HR Assistant position. They thought I'd be really good in HR. I declined, still thinking I would go to law school. At the end of the week in which I was promoted to HR Manager, I climbed in my SUV and smiled. I guess a law firm knew me more than I knew myself when I was 22.