For the first time in a long time, my daughter got sick. Suddenly she had high fever and complained of an ear ache. I have given her meds given by the doctor earlier in the day before we slept last night and she slept almost as soon as her head landed on the pillow in her bed, just next to ours.

For a couple of hours she seemed ok, breathing a little bit fast and snoring; must be the clogged nose or something. I felt her forehead. It was hot. I grabbed the thermometer and it read 38.1C. She was shivering with cold and I could not do anything but keep her hands and feet warm. She was murmuring words, waking up so many times to ask for water. Poor baby.

I could not sleep. Every jerking movement she makes wakes up the tiniest bit of sleeping nerve I have. My daughter has a history of febrile convulsions and I can’t sleep through the night knowing the convulsion attack might come.

It was a long night. In between comforting her (she seem to have had nightmares) and keeping her warm and giving her water or taking her to the toilet, I kept praying my little girl to get better. I have no complaints. She has been really active and well these past few months and she is not a robot. Sickness like this is normal for a child her age.

I am a mom and I love her to bits, no sleep and a full time work afterwards will not make me love her less.

Today I am thankful that I have increased my resistance to sleepless nights. Prior to getting married and having a kid, I would be dysfunctional beyond 10 pm and would wage a war if woken up before 6am. Now, I am surprised I can really stay up really late if my daughter is sick and can be contented with 10 minute short naps.

The smell of the ocean enveloped the whole ship. The air was humid and heavy, dark clouds rolling in the sky signalled rain ahead. In a few minutes the ship will dock to a newly assigned port, just the same as I will embark on a new journey.

I wasn’t able to sleep well, thinking of the what could have been’s and the what if’s. I knew it would be sad to go but I am also aware that it hurts to stay. There is no point in holding to something or someone when everybody else is saying it’s wrong. Something must be in-stored for me somewhere else.

“Good morning everyone, this is your Captain speaking. In a few minutes we are about to dock in the port of…”

I got lost in the familiar faces of the people travelling with me in the past 20 hours. They scrambled like ants ready to start the day; gathering their bulky, outsized bags, having early morning breakfast or waking up their many children. So many people, each with a story of their own.

“All passengers departing the ship, please proceed to Gate number one.”

Beyond that gate number one, destiny and God have prepared me for something. I carry my bags and my heavy heart, my parcel of life, that wept for the love that I let go.

*****

This writing exercise is fueled by the writing prompt “I carry” at Sunday Scribblings.