Bug flew home to San Francisco yesterday to pick up something very special for me:
When the boys arrive tomorrow morning, it will be the first time in seven weeks we’ve been together as a family. I may hug them to death, I’ve missed them so much. And I strongly suspect Keegs is now taller than me
My original plan was to write, write, write while Bug was gone, but I’ve been too excited to focus (trust me, this is a much better feeling than paralyzing anxiety). I did, however, get a rough outline for my next book worked out. My goal is to have it ready for my super-agent Kathleen by October 1st, and hopefully off to editors shortly thereafter.
One of my many non-essential tasks today was to tame this:
From Liam, the stylist with mesmerizing chest hair, I learned Parisians love hair oil. Apparently, the water is very dry (ummm…), which isn’t implausible because my hair hasn’t been as shiny or bouncy as normal. Plus, this morning, I couldn’t get my brush through my hair, and it took about forty-five minutes to untangle the knots just so I could wash it. At that point, I surrendered, twisted my hair into a bun, and walked to the pharmacie to buy hair oil. I slopped the magic elixir all over my frizzy mess and the results were impressive: slick, straight, and shiny.
I did all that so that I could stumble across the street, have a glass of champagne and eat lunch. I spent the rest of the day washing laundry and setting up the boys’ rooms.
Which brings me back to the boys arriving. The past seven weeks, as hard and as unpredictable as they were, have been a gift.
Our friends and family have been rocks for us, and the outpouring of support from strangers has been amazing. It’s this love that has made it possible for us to move forward as a family.
For the first time since Bug’s accident, I’m looking to the future with a smile.