Everything in our lives revolves around That Day. Looking back at the time he was in the hospital, I knew that our lives would be different, but I never could have imagined to what extent. How do you predict the unknown? Should you even waste your time straining to see into the future when God only knows what's in store for you?
I think about the little things that have changed - the landscaping rock instead of the more earthy, more maintenance-heavy mulch that Rich prefers. Or that fact that me, an avid high-heel-wearer (I even got a high-heel Christmas ornament from my fifth graders one year), have not worn a pair since the accident. It's hard to haul things in heels. Which, by the way, means that my pants are hemmed shorter to accommodate my new footwear (thank God ballet flats are en vogue!). Sometimes it's not even the big things that get to you - it's all the little things.
And yet, life is good. I'm sitting in our screened-in porch, listening to the birds sing. Rich and Annessa are snoring softly in the bedroom and I am about to get a cup of coffee. I find myself waiting. Waiting for everything to be normal. Waiting to create new memories so that it doesn't hurt so much to look back at the old ones. Take new pictures. Celebrate holidays. Get through all the seasons.
The beautiful part is we have each other. That is so much better than the other alternative. We get to make new memories. We get to take new pictures. We get to celebrate holidays and watch the seasons pass.
And that is everything I need.
I think about the little things that have changed - the landscaping rock instead of the more earthy, more maintenance-heavy mulch that Rich prefers. Or that fact that me, an avid high-heel-wearer (I even got a high-heel Christmas ornament from my fifth graders one year), have not worn a pair since the accident. It's hard to haul things in heels. Which, by the way, means that my pants are hemmed shorter to accommodate my new footwear (thank God ballet flats are en vogue!). Sometimes it's not even the big things that get to you - it's all the little things.
And yet, life is good. I'm sitting in our screened-in porch, listening to the birds sing. Rich and Annessa are snoring softly in the bedroom and I am about to get a cup of coffee. I find myself waiting. Waiting for everything to be normal. Waiting to create new memories so that it doesn't hurt so much to look back at the old ones. Take new pictures. Celebrate holidays. Get through all the seasons.
The beautiful part is we have each other. That is so much better than the other alternative. We get to make new memories. We get to take new pictures. We get to celebrate holidays and watch the seasons pass.
And that is everything I need.
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