Back to My Real Life

TBG wondered what would fill my days after the hoopla over the wedding subsided. I laughed then and I'm laughing now.  It's nearly 4 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm wondering where the day went.

My Monday Pilates Diva is traveling to a wedding back East; instead of roll ups I rolled over and slept in just a little bit longer.  Without my usual dose of stretching and bending and breathing and centering, the whole day seemed just a bit off.

There were left over goodies from the goodie bags, so off to Prince and Amphi I went.  Upon opening the boxes in the teachers' lounge, I found that MOTG had not sent 5 boxes of trail mix.  Rather, she'd sent 4 boxes of beautifully wrapped and beribboned healthy snacks, and 1 box of fudge and easter egg colored candies.  I suppose they were to be included in the goodie bags; unfortunately for our guests, I never got that far.  The teachers were oohing and aahhhing over the individually bagged bundles of joy this morning; here's hoping MOTG can forgive me.  Wonderful woman that she is, she never mentioned a word about them.  I have a lot to learn from my daughter's newest mom.

The PE teacher and I consulted about our joint venture to get the kids moving and then it was the vitamin store and Whole Foods and a bagel-and-cream-cheese-check-email-on-the-kindle break.  I dropped off the dry cleaning and walked on Christina-Taylor's path and made brownies and went out to lunch.  I packed packages that have been looking at me from the desk all week long and I dropped them at the post office before I went shopping for a new kitchen faucet.  I bought lamb chops for dinner and here I am, finished with my errands for the day.

There are no pending projects looming on the horizon.  I don't have a list of phone calls to make or items to purchase.  There's only life and the detritus it leaves in its wake.

Large pieces of paint are falling off the side of our house.  The aforementioned kitchen faucet is leaking and must be replaced since the repair attempt was a very drippy failure.  A pack rat has made a nest around the pool equipment and the potting supplies and, in the process, has chewed through some live wires.  $200 later, we have a new Temp Sensor Kit for the pool's heater and the pack rat, we hope, has learned his lesson.

It's a very busy season for pack rat removal companies.  I hope the rodent doesn't get hungry for electrons before my appointment on Thursday. 

And yes, I could set my own trap but then I'd have to remove it when the rat ate the cheese and there is no way I... or anyone I know.... is up for that.

From time to time, driving into and out of almost every parking lot on Tucson's northwest side, I reminded myself of the progress I've made.  The wedding planning was concurrent with my rehab; it was eighteen months of angst and joy and wonder and surprise.  There was always something to do, be it buy hand towels for the powder room or swim laps every morning to loosen my tightening joints. And there was always the worry... that it would rain.... that I'd stop getting better.

There's less frantic and more ease in my gait, and I know why.  It's the same reason that this laundry list of my day makes me happy.  In my heart, buried deeply beneath the "I don't like that my leg is shorter" and the "I miss hiking" and the "I want my strength back" moaning and groaning, there lurked my one, true, secret desire. 

I wanted to dance at my daughter's wedding. 

Ten days ago, I was slow dancing in TBG's arms and then "doin' the Mom dance" with my girlfriends, my walking stick lost in the party, my hips shaking and my fingers pointing and we were laughing and smiling and hugging and crying because I was there, dancing at my daughter's wedding.

It's nice to be back doing regular things.  It's even nicer to have that memory tucked inside, tickling me with joy when I least expect it.

Groceries and lotions and bills might have filled my day on the outside, but inside, I'm still tripping the light fantastic, celebrating the love.