1. Go to zoo with girlies and others (check)
2. Sand, (check) prime, (check) and paint bathroom cupboards
3. Paint (check) and mod-podge Dale Earnhardt table--let's convince Jack it should be a high-banked oval (circular, not oval. good enough.)
4. Yard sail with Sugar (check) and maybe even Colleen (not this time)--plead with the cosmos to send a full-length mirror my way (not this time)
5. Finish lots of homework (uh, maybe tomorrow) (tomorrow)
6. Begin lots of homework (some, not lots) (lots of reading, the night is young)
7. Fly to tropical vacation in Maui (not this year)
8. Commemorate one-year mark since Stu's health took a huge turn for the better (so grateful every day--he just called and asked if I remembered what I was doing a year ago) (see below**)
9. Win Idaho lottery (only possible if I take a trip to Idaho to purchase winning ticket)
10. Mend the 3/4" hole that has been chewed in my lovely flowered yellow quilt (picked up the fabric and thread) (check)
11. Hang up three new jackets, three new skirts, countless new tees (oh yes I did and also moved many not-worn-for-a-year items to an extra closet, soon to be donated to someone who will love them and their gently-used nature)
12. Smile slyly at my clever shopping skills (yes, of course, still, always) (how clever? new top, new capris, <$10) (I know, amazing!)
**From the time spent tonight at Stu's:
This girl is a poser.
These two, not so much.
I can always count on a hug from this one.
This one loves to take pictures.
Check out the mom in the corner.
Maybe a bit odd, but we had cake for Stu's liver's one-year birthday.
I don't know what the appropriate celebratory event is when it's been one year since a liver transplant. If you were Carolyn and we were in your office, you'd be asking me to describe my feelings and I would need to pause and collect my thoughts. You would be handing me the ever-present box of tissues so I could take a moment to calm my sobs, dry my eyes, and blow my nose. When I think about my emotions for the past year, I recognize fear, concern, worry, doubt, anger, relief, pain, more concern, gratitude, more relief, more relief, joy, gratitude, sadness, calm, joy, and peace. And then a year ago tomorrow, it started again. In no particular order.
I saw an article in the local paper about a memorial wall that has been erected recently to recognize organ donors, and alongside that article was a picture of a weeping mother whose son had told her just weeks before his death that he wanted to be a donor, and she honored his wish. My heart is broken for her even as my heart rejoices watching my now healthy son with his family. I never, for a second, forget her pain and selfless choice. I will be grateful to her forever.
I guess the easiest way to describe my feelings about today is in pictures. This is last year:
I saw an article in the local paper about a memorial wall that has been erected recently to recognize organ donors, and alongside that article was a picture of a weeping mother whose son had told her just weeks before his death that he wanted to be a donor, and she honored his wish. My heart is broken for her even as my heart rejoices watching my now healthy son with his family. I never, for a second, forget her pain and selfless choice. I will be grateful to her forever.
I guess the easiest way to describe my feelings about today is in pictures. This is last year:
This is tonight:
2 comments:
Congratulations on your milestone(s)--the 600th post, the healthy son. And on your full, rich life. Awesome.
I'm pretty sure I won that game.
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