Yesterday morning had a bad start, but all is well.

Phone rings yesterday morning at 7:15. It's my brother Crits. "Mom's not answering her phone."

(A bit of background. For years my mother's BF would call her in the morning to wake her up. When he passed away last year my brother took over that task. It has been a good way for the two of them to reconnect.)

"Probably the ringer isn't working," I say.

"Probably not, but I'd better drive over and see what's going on."

"Okay." I finish getting dressed and think no way am I going to work. I call him back. "I'm headed that way too."

So I'm thinking, her hearing is bad on one side if that's the side she fell asleep on. And I'm thinking the girls were there yesterday, they would have known if she was sick. And I'm thinking she felt great at Thanksgiving, in her garage that the boys have fixed up as a holiday room. And we raked leaves on Sunday.

And I make the turn onto Miller Road and thoughts intrude of other phone calls that have ended badly (we've all had them, haven't we) and I get jittery and I start crying a little by the time I hit Cedar and then I take a deep breath and think no, it's her phone or she has a cold and can't hear or . . . whatever.

I pull into her driveway and Crits' truck is there. I take a deep breath and before I can exit my vehicle, the house door opens and she's there.

Whew. All is well for this day.