This morning, Jimmy and I shared some tough moments.
I started packing, planning and making lists probably four weeks ago. It's hard to put my mind to rest at night.
Visions of post-its dance through my head.
Yesterday, Jimmy and I finally went through his closet to get rid of his old crap. It's a task that was two years overdue and took hours but I feel less anxious now when I go to pack for him. Like, we probably won't be wearing the corduroy blazer any time soon.
Medical supplies. Trying to fit a manual wheelchair into a sedan. Trying to come up with a friggin' side item for the steak were cooking on our night (why is that so hard?). Have to get ice the morning of our travels. Clean out the fridge. Have the garbage ready to go. Put gas in the van. I have to remember to pack towels. Lots of pillows to properly pad Jimmy. What will I forget? There's always something.
The driving of the six hours will seem like the easy part.
But this morning, Jimmy confessed to me why it may seem like he's not looking forward to the beach. Pretty obvious reasons that maybe I've been oblivious to. Things he feels he can't do anymore, things that used to symbolize this trip for us: swimming, drinking, playing with kids, staying up late night.
It's super tough to hear him talk like this but I'm so glad he told me. I take this as a personal challenge to help him have a big time.
Maybe this is just like pre-wedding jitters: once you get to the actual wedding and reception, all is good.
|There is a smile on that face. |
(Edisto Beach, 2012)