Just before 9 pm last night, the youngest of our family tore across the dew soaked grass with a sequel into my arms. Tucker followed closely behind and I melted into his lanky broad shoulders as he wrapped himself around me and repeated over and over how much he missed me. Tears welled as Paul stood on the front porch while our long awaited reunion unfolded under the glow of an enormous moon. We communicated in the unspoken dialogue only parents living in crisis can understand. Cooper joined in after 9:30 after football practice.
While I couldn’t be more thrilled to be home and am savoring everything I missed while I was gone, I am far from being able to run our household with any semblance of efficiency or do anything with graceful execution around here. For the time being, I’m proud at my ability to rock the shuffle walk, somewhat resemble a drunken stay at home mom stumbling home after a tennis match and am rather damn proud that I managed to only walk into a few doorways today. Progress does not always need to be measured by compelling metrics. Sometimes, progress is simply making it to the couch with a cup of coffee and not spilling it on yourself.
The dogs and I are are as thick and thieves and we all seem to relishing in the joy snuggling together in bed and on the couch brings each of us. I’ve resolved to accept and embrace the slow pace this healing process will take and frankly, surrounded by my children, Paul and friends… slow isn’t so bad when you’re alongside all those who keep you laughing and smiling.
From my home to yours, cheers as we embrace our pace. Rome wasn’t built in one week and I’m pretty sure no skull has healed after a craniotomy that fast either!
One day at a time.