A funny thing happened once we knew a specific day that Gary is coming home: time completely, absolutely, maddeningly came to a standstill and is inching along like that annoying putt-putting car in the passing lane that makes me drum my fingers on the steering wheel and wish I had a giant boot on my front bumper.
We’re down to about a month and a half. Sometimes I think of the time left and feel like the day will never arrive. Other times I feel rushed, realizing all the things I had planned to do, hoped to do, before he got home, before the kids are here. They are things that, really, only I will care about: refinishing the porch swing, repairing the fish pond, repainting the bathroom, decorative projects that no one will worry about anyway except me. I sincerely doubt the kids will burst into the house, take a critical look around, and pronounce, “This is unacceptable, Smirking Cat. I fully expected a fresh coat of sponge painting in this place”, marching off in a disgusted huff.
Still, throwing myself into projects has helped pass the time, has helped me keep my focus on moving forward instead of trapping myself in wishing time away. I am determined to use this as momentum to do better, to learn, to grow. Gary coming home is a new beginning and a new start, but only if we make it that way.