"Da, let's make special cards for each other," Che says dropping paper, makers, crayons, scissors, stickers, glue and a couple of hundred pipe filers.
When I return, everything's laid out and our daughter's gluing stickers on paper so I watch what she's doing, grab what I need and do my own version of what she's doing.
She intensely concentrates and doesn't say a word while I'm utterly mesmerized by the colors I'm putting on the card I'm making.
Sarah's in bed recovering from COVID and in a strange plot twist our roles are reversed and I'm the Caregiver!
For two-and-a-half days, Sarah sleeps and things could have spiraled out of control with Wonder Woman down but Cass, Che and I go on acting as normal as we know how.
It was no problem for 16 year old Cassidy as we barely saw her at all.
She may have been here but, she could just as easily be somewhere else.
It's possible she's been in her room the entire time, though whenever I open the door it's impossible to know for sure because it looks like two delivery trucks full of apparel collided and clothes exploded everywhere.
Besides I'm focused on Che who's obviously experienced living life with a sick parent though I'm witnessing it for the first time.
Our 6 year old Love-child stoically goes about business-as-usual, playing with neighborhood kids, singing along to Kidzbop, watching Tiktok, wanting Chick-fil-a for dinner and loving just hanging out with her old man.
But she also quietly slips into our bedroom when I'm preoccupied and crawls in bed with her Mom, kissing Sarah's forehead and whispering to her in the dark.
She's also taken to wearing my tee shirts and wants to sleep in the Living room with me instead of her room which adores.
I wonder if this is what it's like when I'm the one laying in bed for days on end?
Sarah arranged a pre-Christmas 4 night cruise which we enjoyed immensely except that I was in bed for one of them, shivering and sweating in our tiny cabin, while she worked feverishly to entertain the kids, get them out of the room so I could rest while worrying what happens if I don't recover?
I remember Che crawling into bed with me, kiss me on my cheek and whisper "I love you Da Da".
Che tested positive but is asymptomatic and I'm miraculously negative.
"It's the Weed," Johnny O explains after checking in on me. "Keep yourself in the cloud and you're immune to pretty much everything."
I have no reason to doubt John anymore.
"You almost finished Da?"
"No, I need some stickers. You got any?"
She hands me a box full and we resume working in silence on the cards we're making for each other.
I wonder what made her think of doing this?
She well knows the heavy burden of constant caregiving and the physical and emotional toil it takes to keep going when there's no end in sight, so she has us making "special" cards to support each other.
Is this what it's like every day for Sarah and Che?
On my worse days, even Cassidy breaks her routine to ask, "Are you okay?" before walking into her room and shutting the door.
I'm experiencing what Sarah lives every day, except she works full time, carries a full load for a Nursing degree, picks up other small jobs when she can, manages our home and is my caregiver!
I don't do any of that other stuff as Sarah's build a fragile world of near normalcy while I fight cancer and the girls grow up care-free.
It's all gone to Hell with Sarah in bed with COVID so I'm trying to mimic what she does every day though Che seems to be doing as much "heavy lifting" as I am, which isn't much.
But I can color and make a special card for a girl who recognizes someone needing encouragement when she sees it, so she makes me a card.
She knows she needs it too so, at her insistence, I make her a card.
"Here you are!" she delightfully squeals handing me a smiling bunny, baby chicken, and flower glued on paper.
"Dad to Clare," she writes beside her multicolored heart.
Happily grinning, I give "the most special girl ever" her card.
Afterwards she falls in my arms and, just as we hug, Sarah calls from the bedroom.
Knocking each other down trying to get up from the floor as fast as possible, she rushes to see Mom.
It takes me a little longer but when I get there, Sarah's sitting upright hugging Che and I lean against the door frame trying to appreciate everything.
By New Year's Eve, Sarah's recovering enough to sit on the sofa with me.
Che falls asleep as soon as she got in her bed.
At midnight, as euphoric celebration explodes from the football game on television, Sarah says, "We made it! Take a picture" so I do.
The old year passes away.
The new one arrives to find us still standing, defying all odds, holding on to one another, committed and prepared to "choose life over death" when confronted by the two, as the Bible puts it.
So far, so good.
