As one of my favorite showtunes tells us, there are five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes in a year.
On Saturday, R reached the one year anniversary of his surgery and together we reached the anniversary of a whole new outlook on life. This has been the longest year of my life and I think it's aged me at least 10. I've tried to write this entry since Friday, or longer, really, but each time I do......well, I just can't. R mentioned that on Saturday, he re-read some of The Journey posts and thanked me again for keeping track of those first few weeks. I was afraid I would forget them, trying to write every detail. Funny thing is those memories are as crystal clear to me now as they were then. I am glad the memories are clear, as I still have the rest of my story to tell. It's coming, in case you'd still like to hear it. I think I haven't even finished telling you about the hospital stay, or the nurse I got in trouble because she was more concerned about reading her Harry Potter book then caring for her patients. But this post isn't about that.
This post is about those five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. We've lived them...really lived them this year. We've rediscovered what it means to be happy. Our family comes first. The end. That's a rule I know I didn't always live by. I always felt defined not soley by my family, but by a career, too. What a load of crap. I like to think that this year didn't really change who we were, it simply sloughed away all the stuff that was clinging on and let us be more of who we really were, you know?
Thank you, my friends, for sticking with me this year, it's been a helluva ride. Make the most of all your minutes, okay?
On Saturday, R reached the one year anniversary of his surgery and together we reached the anniversary of a whole new outlook on life. This has been the longest year of my life and I think it's aged me at least 10. I've tried to write this entry since Friday, or longer, really, but each time I do......well, I just can't. R mentioned that on Saturday, he re-read some of The Journey posts and thanked me again for keeping track of those first few weeks. I was afraid I would forget them, trying to write every detail. Funny thing is those memories are as crystal clear to me now as they were then. I am glad the memories are clear, as I still have the rest of my story to tell. It's coming, in case you'd still like to hear it. I think I haven't even finished telling you about the hospital stay, or the nurse I got in trouble because she was more concerned about reading her Harry Potter book then caring for her patients. But this post isn't about that.
This post is about those five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. We've lived them...really lived them this year. We've rediscovered what it means to be happy. Our family comes first. The end. That's a rule I know I didn't always live by. I always felt defined not soley by my family, but by a career, too. What a load of crap. I like to think that this year didn't really change who we were, it simply sloughed away all the stuff that was clinging on and let us be more of who we really were, you know?
Thank you, my friends, for sticking with me this year, it's been a helluva ride. Make the most of all your minutes, okay?
Labels: The Journey
2 Comments:
I, for one, DO want to hear the rest of the story, but only when (if) you want to tell it.
I don't care how we get to the lesson of priorities; it's only important that we get it before it's too late. You did, and that's all that matters.
Love 'em while you've got 'em is my motto. I try to do that as best I can, too.
Happy anniversaries. My love to you and R and Booger.
I told R the other day that Saturday was more like a Birthdaversary. You, R and Booger have come a long way in the last year. I'm glad that you have allowed me to come along for the ride.
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