The Lows Are Low

There was a small plane crash in Truckee yesterday, very close to the playground where we hung out at a lot. If I were still there, it would definitely have felt like another apocalyptic sign, like when a brush fire ignited on the mountain next to Boomtown a few days before I was set to move the camper there. 

But from where I'm sitting this morning...watching Shadow chase a fly around the dining room while I sip a cup of tea...everything feels sort of normal and boring. Has it really only been a month since the race? We would have been arriving home this week anyway. The 2,500 miles of country we were supposed to cross slowly, stopping at the vacuum cleaner museum in Idaho and looking for wild horses in North Dakota, instead passed underneath us in hours, as we flew back home in separate groups. 

M is at a very boring wait-and-see part of his recovery. We can make no plans for the future, because there are several very different paths in front of us. We just have to do the laundry and take the kids to the dentist and figure out how to adapt to these circumstances. Sometimes it feels fine, like we have a handle on everything and an appropriately cheerful outlook. M ordered button down shirts to accommodate his port. I found sodium free seasoning at the grocery store. The kids are digging our new cable tv subscription. So many channels! Shadow loves being back at the house. IT'S FINE!

We have a saying in our family that all feelings are acceptable but some actions must be controlled. I forget where I picked up this phrase, but we usually apply it to kicking your brother when he steals the Lego you were saving for your creation. I'm definitely harboring some resistance to this new reality. I hate it, actually. It's ok to feel that way. I still have to do the laundry.