This is what I am doing tomorrow at 6 a.m. or so. With 3 kids. One of which who is under 2.
I think my Happy Meal is missing a few fries.
Our little one week vacation went slightly over schedule. We came, we saw, we stayed. Sometimes it flat out blows my mind how much can change in a year. Here's to my husband, who had the courage to try. Here's to my kids, who had the capacity to understand. And here's to me, who, for the first time in her life, attempted a little thing called forgiveness.
I'm glad we took that road trip. I'm glad we decided to make his Father's Day present us. I'm glad that I didn't intend this, or even want this, when I got into that car. It's been one of the hardest years of my life, this one, more internally than anything else. I don't know how to forgive, I have no earthly clue how to trust, but I'm learning. Every day, I find out one new thing about myself. This thing, this rebuilding a marriage, has been so much harder than anything I've ever had to do before.
But you know what? It's not impossible, it's not too hard, and there are days when I think that nothing in this whole world is more worth-while. The speed-bumps are annoying, the pot-holes really, really hurt when I hit them, but the times when the sun is out and the road is open? Those are the happiest times of my life so far.
Would I do it again? I honestly don't know. But, just once, I did that thing that I was most afraid to do. I took the road less traveled, just like I said on my wedding announcements that I would. And I am really lucky that I did.
I remember stopping at a pretty schwanky hotel in Boise tonight one year ago, the one I couldn't afford at all but got anyway, figuring we'd just eat mac & cheese for the rest of the month once we got home, throwing the kids in the pool, and calling Gigi to check in. I remember the sound of her voice, and the concern she was trying to mask, and I remember thinking that, for the first time in my adult life, I'd found home. That woman was home. I remember reading my comments that night and seeing Diane's, and realizing that she, a woman I still have never met in real life, was home, too. That I had real, grown up friends, that I had finally found my spot in Denver, in life, in all of it.
And then I just never came back.
I miss home, I really do. I ache for Denver, for Gigi's kitchen, for the possibility of taking in a Rockies game with Diane someday, for Molly and Marge and Aimee and David and Andy and Stephen and all of you in the Mile High Club. But, you know what? This right here, this couch, these pictures, my Mini-Cuisinart; that's home, too. And that's just fine by me.