My Hero

I’m still exhausted.

My dining room is full of boxes. Stuff.

We emptied the van this morning, returned it and I crashed.

Sound asleep for three hours.

Emotionally, I feel like I’ve hit bottom. Nothing left. No steam.

Overall, the trip was uneventful.

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We worked through it.

You know what I walked away with? The most important thing? Allan.

Allan was my hero this weekend.

I’m not joking. I mean it. He worked so hard, packed so much and made me feel loved, taken care of and safe.

That’s huge for me.

As we went through each room, deciding who would take what, Allan trailed behind, packing like a man possessed.

He gave me room to be quiet.

He gave me room to work with my siblings.

He took care of me. Exactly how I needed to be taken care of. With kindness and brilliant packing.

He’s my hero.

Thank you, Allan.

Seems to run in the family, this kindness thing.

Zachary just walked in with a plate of cookies.

Cookie?

His eyes are so blue when he wears his blue hat.

Did I give birth to you? I asked him.

He paused. Grinned.

Go figure, he said, before returning to the kitchen.

I have a big glass of Dr. Pepper. A cookie. The Patriots Game.

I’m not moving for the rest of the day.

What a weekend.