Alabama fog
That blurry fog of finally being somewhere you’ve wanted to be for months, and missing him so much you’re almost disoriented. I surprised my little sister, who’s getting married soon, by flying home two weeks early for her wedding showers this weekend. I surprised my mom and brother too, because surprises are my favorite. I got time off work, lined up a house sitter, set up sprinklers and someone else to water, worked extra days before I left, packed up myself and two kids, planned airport rides. Survived the airports with two little ones, with a recently injured and surgically repaired knee, when the airlines lost my gate checked stroller. I did a lot to be here! And I’ve been so excited about it.
But yesterday I was in a fog. Maybe it’s that thick Alabama humidity that’s associated with unexpected rainstorms. Maybe it’s the fact that we lived in Birmingham when we were first married, and that he moved in with my brother so he could be closer when we were falling in love. I remember sitting in his old, junky van when he moved to Alabama, telling him this may not be a good idea. I was not sure we would be right in the long run, and I hated for him to go to all this effort and potential heartbreak if I never got on board. His response? “The chance is worth it.”
Maybe it’s the fact that the candlelit backyard where the couples shower was held last night was the same dreamy setting for our wedding shower six summers ago. When I saw one of my best friends chalk lettering on the wall-length chartboard in the kitchen, the flowy words were for my sister and her Triston. Mine and Trevor’s names had been erased ages ago. Disorienting. Did I even smile last night? I hope so. I wanted to be here! I’m overjoyed for my Mary Ellen. This is just all surreal. In some good ways and in some so-painful-my-brain-is creating-anesthetic ways. Or something.
I’m happy that my kids are getting love, and providing so much delight, while they are here. I’m not sure if it’s more painful to be places where we’ve been, because of the memories, or places we have not, because of the potential. We are here, though, and I still think it will be good.
