Was the day we reunited with Scott after three months apart. A very happy day. We picked him up at the Phoenix airport and drove another couple of hours west, stopping for the night in Yuma so that we could make the last piece of the journey to our new home in the daylight. We got the very last room in town, after being turned away from about six motels. Two queen beds for the seven of us, but we didn’t care. We ate at a Cracker Barrel that night, and a woman at the next table couldn’t stop giggling at us because of the way Wonderboy was staring nonstop at Scott with a huge grin plastered on his (Wonderboy’s) face.
So today I’m thinking about how happy we are to be all together again, and I’m thinking about the children whose daddies are in Iraq and Afghanistan. If our separation was agony, it must pale in comparison to what those families are going through.
Art Doesn’t Always Imitate Life
OK, So the “Cold” Part No Longer Applies (Here in San Diego), But I AM Still Nursing a Baby, So Hush
Thursday reading notes (plus happy anniversary to us)