I just can’t enough of the eyes on this girl.
So today marks the third month of her daddy’s transplant. Today is also the first day of Advent . . . a day of Hope.
And it is a day of Hope. It was a weekend of hope – it was an ordinary weekend just like any other – with the Fisherman outside helping the tallest of our children with his car. Oh! That car! That terrible, terrible car.
The pair came in and out of the house with greasy hands searching the internet of what to do next.
The Fisherman watched the ball games, listening where he could to them on his phone and hoped for the Steelers to win with great disappointment. The girl who loves music helped to put lights on the Christmas tree, and the girl who loves everyone played with friends.
The philosopher had gone back to school
and then it was time for the Fisherman’s walk – something he couldn’t do before transplant.
We walked side by side, and talked with cool wind blowing, leaves falling – the day turning into night, and then he said. “Hey, lets run.”
and he beat me.
321.) running with the Fisherman again
322.) a day like any other
323.) leaves twirling
324.) warm brownies
325.) all my children sleeping in the same house – eating at the same table
326.) to much food in the fridge
328.) a warm bed
329.) people glad to see us
330.) the prayers – so many prayers
331.) losing to the Fisherman during our run . . . something that could never have happened three months ago.