Every time I turn around, it feels like I am counting down to something new. Two weeks before I have to turn in my first big homework assignment from grad school. Two weeks and five days until a Zac Brown Band concert — wooo! Seven weeks ’til Quidam, one of the coolest things my 14-year old self had ever seen. (I hope it lives up to my memory of it.)
It’s also three days until we go back to Mercy hospital. The hospital… it’s a good thing… it’s always a good thing when we go to Mercy. The nice people at that place keep taking metal out of my fiance, which we love. And they treat us spectacularly well, which is also very nice. But as grateful as I am for the good work they have already done, I want more from them. There’s something more, something intangible, that they could do to make me happy.
Here’s hoping that this time when they take out metal, they also take out some pain. And some immobility. We could do with less of those in our house. They frustrate the heck out of me, so I can only imagine what they’re doing to the person who actually has to hold them in his arm. I would like to expel all the pain and all the stuck-ness. Pleaseandthankyou.
And then there’s the frivolous countdown… the one that is still so far away that it feels like it’ll never get here, yet is ticking away WAY too fast. It’s always a little bit thrilling and terrifying at the same time to see it pop up when I go to that website. Thank you, TheKnot, for telling me that we are officially down to two hundred days until our wedding. It simultaneously makes me think, “OH DEAR LORD, I’LL NEVER GET IT ALL DONE IN TIME!” and “Sigh, can’t we just skip all this waiting and get on with the ‘being married’ bit?”
…Because [Warning: random aside/rant about the princess wedding fantasy ahead!] the wedding, exciting and pretty as its going to be, is nonetheless still just one day. We’re going to sign some papers that let us file taxes jointly, and we’re going to say some sweet, sappy stuff to one another for everyone else to go “Awww!” over, and that will be it. It’s not the be-all and end-all of my life’s goals. We’re just getting married. Then we’re going back to being the normal, calm people that we used to be — you know, before I would scan craft and home decorating stores for unique lanterns every time I go in, and when I could care less which shade of teal is called ‘peacock’ and which is ‘oasis.’
It’s just a single day in a whole wonderful lifetime I’m planning to have with the man I feel so lucky to have found. So every once in a while, though I am definitely excited to see so many family and friends all at once, and dress up and have a great party, I think that it would be nice if April 14th were just here already, so we could get on with it — the wonderful life, I mean. I’m a little tired of counting down.
I keep having dreams that I’m working on a farm. I still have scars, but my arm works perfectly. Premonition?
I love you, and your support means more to me than I can put into words, which for me, says a lot.
If it’s a premonition, it’s the best one ever. I have faith, still, that you will be able to use that arm without hindrance someday. I have hope, still, that it will happen shortly after this next surgery. I have determination, still, to do anything within my power to help you get there, even if it means participating in every single physical therapy session or flying with you all over the world to find the best specialists.
You’ll always have my support. You are my heart and my very favorite person. You deserve the best I can give you.