Little Things

Sometimes it’s the little things.

I started crying after my dentist’s appointment earlier this week.

Not because I had a bad checkup. It was an excellent checkup, actually. Even though I got a little scolded, since it had been two years since my last checkup, and the assistant reminded me of that a few times. “So you are here to get reestablished?” she asked.

Not exactly.

You don’t need to reestablish something that you never lost, right? Because it’s not like I’ve ignored my dental health: I’ve gotten cleanings every six to eight months. But since I don’t have dental insurance, all the money comes out of pocket, so if my teeth have generally (and luckily) been fine, why not skip the annual exam and the $300 fee? My hygienist even told me awhile back that it would be OK to skip a year of exams. Apparently that factoid did not get noted on my chart.

No.

I started crying when I got out to the car because it wouldn’t start. It was a foggy, overcast day, and I left my lights on. This particular car does not have a handy “You left your lights on!” buzzer.

I was driving the older car that doesn’t have that handy reminder buzzer because my other car was not starting. For different reasons. Maybe the starter is bad? We made it to O’Reilly’s auto parts store the other night, where they politely tested the alternator and battery (for free) and told me that those did not appear to be the problem. So the most likely issue, the tech surmised? The starter.

Another wonderful tidbit from this very long day? My portable massage table was at home in the trunk of the car with the bad starter. Which was not something I remembered that morning as we were rushing out the door so I could get my son to ski practice on time. So when I made it to town, I realized that I didn’t have my second massage table, so I had to break down my permanent table from my main office which is heavy and not so portable so that I could do an appointment at my secondary office space.

Bother.

Two massage tables, but only one where it was supposed to be.

One car that wouldn’t start because of the starter.

The other that wouldn’t start because of a dead battery.

So I sat in the parking lot of the dentist’s office and cried a little, and then called my client whose appointment was scheduled after my dentist appointment and told him I wouldn’t be able to make it, and then called AAA and was on hold for ten minutes before I even talked to a service representative. Which will also make you cry, because AAA is supposed to answer immediately, right? The recording said there was an “unexpected surge” in call volume so my “wait time would be longer than usual.”

But finally, I got through to somebody, and they contacted the tow truck company, and a kind driver named Eli made it to me in about twenty minutes. Basically less time than it took me on the phone to ask for help.

AAA should not leave you on hold.  Ever.

Car batteries should not die in the days before Christmas.

Car starters also should not die.

(Children should not die in the days before Christmas).

That last thought came to me as an unwanted but necessary reality check.

Because a dead car battery was such a minor problem.

Yes, I had to cancel my last work appointment of the day because… well. My car wouldn’t start and I was stuck at the dentist’s.

But my teeth were fine and I did not need any fillings right now or anything worse. If I had been told that I needed major dental work that would cost hundreds or thousands of dollars? That would be a more appropriate, understandable reason for crying.

Also, I did not lose my son a few weeks ago. I wrote about losing one of my son’s first childhood buddies, Dante, in an earlier post here. His memorial service will be next week.

AAA came and charged my battery. I made it home to leftovers and a fire in the woodstove. My daughter is here and we watched another silly Netflix Christmas movie.  Yes, it was a long day. Yes, car problems are a drag. It was not my easiest, funnest day ever. (And yes. Funnest should be a word.)

But everybody I love is safe and warm tonight, though I know that we live in a world where that won’t always be so. That’s a rotten way to end a post, especially one that shows up on Christmas Day. Except the hope of Christmas is what I hold onto, that old hope that shines a deeper, wiser, kinder light into all of the darkness.  A light that sits with us and stays with us and breaks through and transforms all those large and small deaths. Especially the large ones.

Merry Christmas, friends.