I’ve done my best not to memorize the anniversaries over the last 18 months. Well, maybe it’s one part trying and one part not really being able to catch-up. I’ve come to accept that I’m running about one year behind.
There’ve been parts where the days are glacial, and others where I can’t really fathom that we’re finishing-up our second season of baseball and starting our third summer of camp. Two entire school years have come and gone.
The past two years have felt like we boarded an airplane, in a rush, bound for a destination we’d daydreamed about for years. The plane made it up to 35,000 feet and then… someone pushed us out.
We fell far. We fell fast. We hit hard. And yet, when we opened our eyes and dusted ourselves off, we were still intact. Bruised and battered and psychologically sapped, but otherwise, gratefully, still in one piece.
Earlier this week James had a check-up with Dr. Sung and his routine MRI. Thankfully, all was clear. He has another set of scans in a few weeks and an appointment with our oncologist. No news is the best news.
Recently, I’ve set my sights on spending all our frequent flier miles on a trip to an old stone house in Tuscany. Swimming. Eating. Day trips.
And an aisle seat, please.