A quick visit to the doctor this morning confirmed our suspicion – Violet has croup. Having emerged from Weston’s infant years without any doctor-worthy illnesses, hearing our daughter bark like a seal and have rattled breaths between interment sleep was enough for us (somewhat seasoned parents) to feel completely helpless. So now we are playing the waiting game and hoping for this virus to quickly run its course. Violet demands extra snuggles, which isn’t a bad thing in my world. Permission to let household chores fall tow aside has given me time to reflect on everything that I am thankful for – which includes the freedom to end a sentence with a preposition.
This isn’t to say that I wasn’t thankful during the mandated time the government insists I celebrate my thanksgivings. Far from it. In fact, I remember looking over at Clay as he weaved our loaded car through the roads bordering the Shenandoah Valley our way down to Charlotte, NC for Thanksgiving. We’ve seen much of this great country together, a fair amount of it from the front seats of a car and often times en route to spend a holiday with extended family. During this particular drive, I experienced a moment of zen that can only accompany being with the man you love, two children asleep in their car seats, a nervous dog in the the back, and listening to a podcast while sipping lattes, non-fat of course. We arrived at Meredith and Harry’s late Wednesday night, eight hours later our departure. And we eagerly accepted the cocktails offered to us, if anything to be gracious guests.
Meredith and Harry hosted our family, Clay’s parents, Harry’s parents, and Harry’s sister. The last time we celebrated Thanksgiving in Charlotte was back in 2005 – Lucy was a puppy hoping for her first taste of turkey and children were years away from being in the picture. Life sure has changed since that Thanksgiving.
We drove back home on Saturday and spent our Sunday attending church, battling the commissary and nursing sick children. So it wasn’t the most glamorous Thanksgiving holiday but it was one spent with family, which is what matters most. I am thankful for my life. There are winkles to be found in the corner of our eyes, a rousing Saturday night no longer involves waiting until 11pm to arrive at a bar, and road trips now entail planning beyond throwing an overnight bag in the car. But that doesn’t matter. Because the life I’ve grown into is more spectacular than I ever could have imagined. Croup and all.