He’s real?

I’m stuck in a weird part of life, that week between Christmas and New Year’s, and I don’t really know what day or date it is right now.

My Christmas break came a couple of days early, thanks to a storm that knocked out power and water to my town. 

I roughed it for a few days, had surgery in a nearby town, and spent a few quality days with my Dad as he took me to surgery and put up with me afterward.

I would feel better if someone would just run me over.

Sinus surgery is no joke.

I was convinced that I was going to wear lipstick to church on Christmas Eve. That was my goal.

I did not meet that goal. Today is the first day that I’ve gotten out of my pajamas, did my hair and put make up on.

There’s also this wonderful side effect of face surgery called swelling. And pain. There’s plenty of that, too.

Let’s just say that I really know how to party when I have a couple of weeks off of work.

Anyway, this post is not about my swollen face. This post is about my favorite red-headed child, my niece, who is seven years old. Almost the big eight!

She’s the most brilliant and cute red-headed niece I know. Also, she’s the only red-headed niece I know, but whatever.

I digress. 

—

We had some time to kill tonight before we saw a movie. Because I actually got dressed and went somewhere today, I felt terrible, health wise, and I needed some peace and quiet. 

I needed to introvert.

My favorite little redhead asked if she could tag along, and of course I said yes.

We shut the door, and I stuck my headphones on her. First, I played her Eric Church’s White House Christmas song that he sang.

My favorite little redhead grinned a toothless grin and gave me a thumbs up. 

I played her some more songs, and let her pick out some of his songs to play. She danced, swayed, and hummed along.

The last few minutes of our introverting involved me showing her my Washington D.C. photos and videos.

I explained to her that I saw him in concert. Twice! I showed her my whopping one photo that I took that was kind of close up.

She asked me who he was in the photo, who the other guitar player was, and who everyone else was in the photo.

My favorite red-headed child went back and pointed at Eric Church in the photo.

Yes, that’s him, I said.

7-year-old child: “He’s real?”

🤣

I think we’re stuck in a weird week full of Santa and Spider-Man, both of whom may or may not exist. When you add in Eric Church to that mix, things just get confusing when you’re seven years old. 

Child, I said. Did you think Eric Church wasn’t real? 

Her answer: “Well, I wasn’t sure. But now I know.”

🤷‍♀️

Also, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love this child and her siblings. (There has to be a word stronger than love to describe this.)

One day, I will take this child (and her sisters) to a concert, and maybe that day they will feel the magic that I feel. 

He, child, he is very much real, and you need to believe, just like I do.