Sarah has an incredible knack for choosing family excursions that are pure “Americana” slices of life.
A laser light show at an off road, country Drive-in Theater!
A Harvest Moon celebration on a working farm that includes a cannon that shoots rotten tomatoes!
An enchanted “Trick-or-Treat” with creatures inhabiting the marshes of Outland Island!
My wife constantly blows me away!
I’m going to keep sharing my undying devotion of UGA football with her until she loves it as much as I love her family exclusions.
As wonderful as these times are, the great simple joys that make living most delightful, full of laughter and wonder with those you love most, the fight to live never stops.
The “Trick or Treating” through the Marshes of Oatland Island leaves me lagging far behind Che dressed as Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” who’s pulling her Mom along towards the next enchanted creature.
Sarah constantly throws concerned glances over her shoulder to see how I’m doing.
It’s tough not being able to keep up.
It seems I was able to keep pace last year but now lose ground though I was sick most of last year so who knows if I’ve lost anything?
As much as I fight to keep up, and live in the moment with my family, I seem to fall further out of step.
Sarah’s concerned glances grow more frequently each day.
Che excitedly rushes towards the magical mysteries waiting to be discovered in the very next moment of living!
Sarah tries to celebrate the moment with her while looking worriedly at how far I’ve fallen behind.
I catch up just in time to see Che hugging a giant bunny goodby and dragging her Mom down the orange and black lights on the path, yelling “C’mon Da!”
I have to stop to catch my breath and a couple of tears of frustration.
I haven’t lost sight of life but there is this dreadful sense that, in spite of heroic effort on my part, I’m falling out of step with it.
“You okay?” Sarah asks, her head thrown back in my direction as Che excitedly pulls her further down the path.
I nod, try to smile, and watch them disappear around the bend.
When they do, I stop walking, bend over, place my hands on my knees, catch my breath and a few tears.
Another family passes me so I summon my energy and lumber forward.
I catch up when it’s over though I’m proud to have snapped a lot of photos of Che and enchanted creatures in the Marsh.
“What were you doing on your phone?” Sarah asks. “Who were you texting?”
“Nobody,” I answer. “You, I guess,” as I’d sent her the pictures that prove I was there.
When we get home, we’re exhausted while Che’s on a sugar high and it takes another hour to get her in bed.
Sarah and I collapse on the sofa.
The television’s on though both of us surf our phones for a while. She’s working on something. I’m just surfing.
I rub her feet.
The dog takes her place between us in the sofa.
They watch a show as I fall asleep.
Waking, Sarah and I talk while preparing for bed and, sliding under the covers, I’m so grateful for having been gifted another day.
I tried my best to capture it all and though I didn’t get it all, I got more than enough to be thankful as Hell and just as hopeful Heaven comes on earth again tomorrow.
