In 1995, my brother worked in Marion, Arkansas about an hour away from where we lived in Memphis. When it was time for him to move I wanted to help. So we packed up his apartment and offloaded everything from his second story balcony. He dropped it down to me and I caught it. It was the easiest way. Most everything was light, except for a few boxes of text books.
We saved those boxes for last. The first box was dropped and I didn’t brace enough. It leveled me. The second I braced for even more. He leaned over the rail as far as he could and dropped it. Once again, I caught it’s full force and it brought me down. I was a bit reluctant to receive the third box. As he grunted to get it up on the railing, I gave it the biggest effort yet. It dropped and to my surprise, he had switched the books out for pillows. The force I exerted to counteract the books was released when the weightless box hit my arms. My feet flew up in the air, I nearly flipped backwards, and I landed on my back.
When I expected too little I was flattened. When I expected too much, I was flipped. We are trying to figure out what to expect for the next phase of our journey so we are not flattened or flipped. Yesterday Tara met with the the gynecological surgeon as a final post-operative check up. Things looked good. She talked about what to expect next in terms of fluid, reoccurrence, and more. We were told we should plan some trips this fall and winter to places that Tara wants to see. That will be a lot of fun.
But no matter what, the expectations are broad. And I don’t know what to expect or how we should brace ourselves. So we just need to live each day like it is our last; like we should be doing anyway. We need to invest in our children; like we should be doing anyway. We need to love on each other; like we should be doing anyway. I guess it is pretty simple after all.