Tuesday, November 17, 2009

The life span of house shoes

Last year today I posted this photo of two pairs of slippers. The blue slippers that were the lovely husband's are gone - worn through - and replaced by a brown pair. The lavender slippers that were E's are now L's. E now has a dark purple pair. And one day not so far off there will be a boy walking across those wood floors, and if he wants them I'll happily buy him a pair of slippers, too.

Three years ago today M had his lung surgery. E was a baby and L wasn't at all and Groundhog wasn't even a dream. Three years ago a dream was a tumor-free husband. Three years ago a dream was that he'd keep at least part of that obstructed left lung.

It's amazing, thinking that one-and-any-fraction-retainable is enough lungs to be called a dream come true.

He did, he kept the bottom part of that lung. He recovered and did his physical therapy and can throw his children around like any dad ought to be healthy enough to do. To them, his scars are just funny zipper shadows around and across his torso. To them, they're the tickle spots that will fastest capture his attention.

To me, they're visual reminders of how wonderful it can be to be able to care for a husband even in prosaic ways like replacing his slippers when he wears out the soles.

Even if the reason he wears them out so fast is because he wears them on the driveway instead of real shoes when he gets the mail or the newspaper. He's alive, you see, so I can tease him. Happy lungoversary, mister mister. Pin It