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Remembering the Future
When things don’t go to plan.
Her smile radiated as she curtsied in the kitchen with our youngest daughter. Her frayed pink tutu fluttered as they twirled around and around, their hands outstretched above their heads. Laughter echoed down the hall, luring our three other children to charge in to join the fun. The reverie warms my heart.
And then she dry heaves, spits in her cup, and rubs her head. Patches of tiny hairs have replaced her beautiful dirty blonde locks. “It’s just hair,” she tells everyone.
I don’t ask if she’s okay. She doesn’t like it when you talk to her while she’s puking. After 18 years of marriage, I’ve learned to be present, but not comforting in these moments, even though it’s in my nature.
After a few minutes, she regains her composure. A hummingbird whizzes up to our porch, jams its nose into our petunias and darts away. She shifts in her chair and perks up a bit. Her lips begin to curl into a faint smile. She loves hummingbirds.
It’s been a year. She’s still here. For that, I’m profoundly grateful. But life is different now.
Often I drift into the past. I can see us wearing sandals and flip-flops on a 3-mile hike approaching a waterfall finish. Our kids usually complained, but they always made it back to the vehicle. I can feel the…
