We made it away this weekend; we are, in fact, Very Recently returned. The children are in bed, I have folded the clothes that, on Friday and Saturday, I pulled from the dryer and left mounded on the playroom sofa due to Lack of Time.
Now I need to iron.
But more than that, I need to finish grading my students’ tests. Yes, I need to grade their tests, I need to firm up my lesson plans, I need to go to bed. Tomorrow, after all, is the start of Yet Another Week.
But I’m glad we got away even though, for several hours there on Thursday night, I was pretty sure that travel was Too Much for me at this point. Too Much. I’m still getting used to this away-from-home all day thing, still getting used to this homework-every-night thing, still getting used to this lunches-packed, children-up-and-dressed, out-the-door-and-here-we-go thing.
It all comes at me so fast these days: I’m walking with my head down, minding my feet. There isn’t time for a view.
But we had already accepted the invitation to the wedding in Asheville, and we really wanted to go. And so Saturday found us driving west, heading into the Appalachian’s wrinkled thigh. We arrived just in time to check into the hotel, change our clothes, and head to the church; we sat down moments before the conclusion of the prelude.
And then, Oh. There He was, that One, going about His business: uniting to one flesh this beautiful pair. What mystery is here: Look! moments ago they were two, and now they are one. I held Bill’s hand.
And then, Oh, again. The reception was on some smooth place along that wrinkled thigh, a mostly flattened hillside stretched between some mountains. We stood outside and ate hors d’oeuvres. The heels of our shoes were sinking into the soil; the wind was lifting our hair and skirts; the sun was breaking through some clouds just there and Look! making the trees on the mountainside all turn to gold.
My head was up, for a change, and I was laughing.
