It never ceases to amaze me of how quickly time passes. At the birth of this blog, we were uncertain about where our lives were headed.
We didn’t know if R would walk again, when he would return home, or even if he’d fully recover. We didn’t know how this would affect our children’s lives. We only knew that someday we would all be together again.
We’ve all lived under the same roof for a couple of years now and I still find myself in awe that I can actually physically lean on my husband while watching a movie. That I can go to work or run errands and know that I don’t have to call a friend or relative to watch my kids. That my partner is just a few feet away on the next couch while we have a conversation, whether it is about serious subjects like politics or goofy subjects like wondering if Abraham from The Walking Dead just say what I thought he said. That we were not having a pillow conversation on two different sides of the country.
Still in awe.
R is not quite as bogged down with homework this weekend so we decided to try out a new restaurant after mass.
That’s what our time has become. Gratitude in knowing where we were and where we are know. Humbled by our every day life that wasn’t so normal just a few short years ago.
Even the little things are big. For most of our marriage, that’s all we had. Thirty-six hours every other month. A few days of leave a couple of times a year. Trust me, our little moments were the world to us. They were what kept us going.
Our weekly ritual of putting the kids to bed on Sunday and watching the newest episode of The Walking Dead with Coke Zeros in hand is simple but still keep me going. I wonder what our kids will remember about their father being in the military in the future and hope they never resent him for it although I know I did many times. Maybe, like me, they’ll remember the little things.
After all, even the little things are big.