…and Mr Pages leaves for his worktrip to Nicaragua.
I’m not really sure how to describe what’s going on in our home.
Of course there are the typical preparations…suitcases to drag out from dust-covered storage corners, bathing suits and sandals to find buried deep beneath wool sweaters and long underwear, and sunscreen to buy, hidden away on a bottom shelf at Superstore.
In addition, there are all the donations to deal with – baseballs and gloves, skipping ropes, school supplies, gifts for the staff, extra supplies for some of the staff there. We’ve been busy trying to determine luggage restrictions, so we can try to take everything that has been entrusted to us. I wish I could see the face of the air transport security crew who will in all likelihood open and search Mr Pages luggage – baking powder marked for the orphanage kitchen, a hand blender labelled for a cook, markers and glue and pencils and baseballs and 15 facecloths! Not your typical vacation bags, I’ll venture!
But somehow, all that seems easy in comparison to the mental preparations. I know my husband is struggling with thoughts and ideas, worries and concerns, but I am surprised at my own. I mean I’m the one staying safe at home!
But I’m worried about him. Worried that he will go and come back a changed man. Worried that he won’t come back changed. Worried that he won’t come back.
And yet, life is good.
I whisper that to myself in the dark midnight hours when my fears have awakened me from restless sleep. I whisper it during the day when strange lonely thoughts cross my mind. I whisper it to myself when I hug him close and wonder what the future may hold.
Life is good.
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