Hugs to Charles our maintenance man. You are a crown jewel among men. Thank you for calling 9-1-1. Thank you for running into your apartment to fetch a towel to help stanch the bleeding. Most especially, thank you for running across the parking lot to direct the ambulance to the right location. You are fabulous!
Hugs to Dr. Sarah who painstakingly stitched and stitched and stitched literally for hours (about three and a half) all while maintaining her compassion and humor. Your bedside manner is beyond compare and your stitchery is superb. Even in the midst of an inordinate amount of blood, you took the time to involve T in her own care and you listened. You understood that being eleven doesn't mean you're invisible. If I ever need sewing up, I want you to be there.
Hugs to Jane and the househunk. When everything was falling apart, you held the center together. You kept the homefront on an even keel and also dealt with the aftermath. When kids are present at a terrible trauma of one of their friends, they're often ignored or dismissed. Jane calmed them down, dried tears, and answered their questions. The househunk (Poppy) fed D (mac and cheese) and played endless games of Rapunzel Barbie. They most especially serve who stay at home and wait.
Thank you to my fellow writers for your support, generosity, and compassion. In most emergencies, you don't really know the emotional and physical cost until days later. I suspect that will also be true here. So I may very well take you up on your offers of financial help because while I would find it nearly impossible to ask for myself, I won't hesitate to ask for one of my grandchildren. I bet the same is true for all of you. Blessings on each and everyone of you!