What does it mean to be part of the sandwich generation, really?  Today would be an example. 

My phone startled me out of a sleep.  Well, actually I had been awake an hour or so earlier when Chuck got up.  That was long before the sun made it over the mountains to the east.  I tried to sound alert and awake when I answered; but chances are I didn't fool anyone.  I can't remember what crisis it was about, there have been too many others in the past 18 hours since then.  Fortunately Chuck had picked up the drycleaning the night before so I had plenty to choose from and could throw on a pair of pants, shirt and jacket after a quick shower. 

My mother sat at the kitchen island in her light green robe, reading the newspaper.  I took the time to explain to her that Chuck's mom would be coming back to stay tonight.  I could tell before I got around the corner that she had made coffee.  I thought how nice is was as I filled my cup and reached for the cream.  "Every form of refuge has it's price,"  I say to myself.  She seems to think it's important to carry my coffee for me as I go to the car.  So every morning we have this same ritual: she carries the coffee and hands it to me when I get in the car.  It used to bug me; but I realized in some strange way it made her feel good, so why should it bug me.  It's a little weird on the days that I am not carrying anything, though.

Today I have to head north to one of my schools.  Instead of driving the Honda as usual, I'm going to take the Sequoia because I'm bringing back Manzanita bushes for Rachel's wedding.  It's a good thing I don't have to drive the Honda because it's still full of baskets for the wedding and other wedding crap.  Another sign that I am in the middle of the sandwich.

I wonder what part of the middle of the sandwich I am.  Sometimes I'm probably the lettuce and tomato - fresh and there to make things more palatible.  Other times I think I'm probably the mustard - there to spice things up.  Or maybe the cheese or the meat or whatever else is the part of the sandwich that gives  a person energy.  Other times I'm smelly tunafish that's been left out too long.  Hey, I'm human.

So tonight as I try to wind down, I now have two mothers in the house again, I'm getting ready for a daughter's wedding and, oh, did I mention that over 70 non-family members rely on me to make sure they are paid and things go smoothly.  Now I'm sounding snarky. 

What about the sunshine?  When I smelled the coffee this morning, I glanced out the window, and there were my pots of flowers, smiling back.  What a way to start the day.