In my world recently, a few inevitable events, tinged with some element of the miraculous, have occurred.
For Lionel, inevitability struck this past week with the loss of his first baby tooth, a feat that, to his seven-year-old impatient self, probably seemed impossible. As ages five and six have passed by, he’s watched countless friends share eager, toothless grins, wondering when his turn would be. And finally, his moment came in the middle of Scheels this past week as his grandma, promising to be gentle, freed that tooth from his gums, marking yet another check-mark in the “Big Boy” column. His proud grin, down one tooth, shined brightly as he awoke to find a $5 bill under his pillow.
The Inevitable happenings of late don’t stop there – I may be knocking on all of the wood as I share this, but we have recently freed our household’s reliance upon the world of pull-ups. That’s right – Quincy is potty-trained! all the praise hands
At the end of August, as the summer rains gave way to fall…rains, Quincy began a new kindergarten-prep program at a stellar facility that recently opened community-wide (the center previously was available only to employees of certain large companies in our area). This program has been so, so positive for Quincy, in that it offers him the structure and stability that he’s loved and thrived within at previous daycare centers, but also provides the “Big Boy” feel that he – and that we, as his parents – were eagerly seeking. In short, our Bug was consistently using the potty within ten days or so of starting his new school, and it’s been unbelievable to watch his confidence and pride swell as he’s achieved this yes, inevitable, but seemingly elusive milestone.
The last mark of inevitability struck this past week as well. In the middle of the night on Tuesday, our beloved city endured the impact of three small tornadoes, all of which touched down for brief, terror-soaked moments in the span of about 40 minutes. In our area, tornadoes haven’t been our reality for nearly 50 years, and yet these storms brought with them rainy, debris-filled memories of other communities that have weathered, literally, such damage, places and spaces that weren’t as lucky as we in terms of injuries and deaths.
In the days after the storms, amidst clean-up efforts of uprooted trees, scattered branches, and shaken, but steady hearts, our region endured another round of water-logged battle: flooding. Numerous roads and interstates have closed and remain barricaded, leaving some communities isolated in the wake of the storms. While eastern South Dakota praises the lack of casualties at this point, the devastating effects of the flooded roadways, farms, soccer fields, golf courses, and low-lying communities are difficult to predict, yet are certainly not positive.
Weather is one of those inevitable occurrences that always strikes deeply; it’d easy, at least in the Upper Midwest, to point to the coastlines, to our neighbors to the south, as frequent endurers of weather-related troubles. Yet like the anxiety that rumbled and aches below the surface of my smile, weather discriminates against no one, making its inevitability yet another one of life’s waiting games.