Those of you who know me well know that there's nothing I love more than a good movie -- except perhaps, a good book. And as luck would have it, the screening theatre was right next to a Borders book store. You know what that meant? Movie... then bookstore browsing until the next movie... then movie... then bookstore purchasing until the next movie... then movie. Yes, my friends, life was indeed good.
Although I went to each screening alone (except the ones Chris attended with me), I rarely sat by myself. I found many friends to enjoy my time with. Some shared their Tinkys, some gave popcorn eating recommendations, some reminded me of my maternal worth, some warmed my heart with inside tales of my own kids. Some began as strangers and left as friends -- those who shared their tissues, their hearts, and their experiences. It was a community that was second to none.
During the course of this adventure, my poor husband was diagnosed with pneumonia. Pneumonia!! He's normally akin to a cockroach or a Twinkie -- nothing can take him down. Having spent the last 13 years in a public school setting, he's developed every immunity known to man. But apparently, this was one bad ass bacteria that settled in his lungs. When he finally went to the doctor, she said, "I'm pretty sure you don't have meningitis..."
That's not my favorite way to start a sentence.
That poor man didn't leave his bed for an entire week. He fevered, sweated, fevered, sweated some more, and then he slept. And then he slept a little more. And then the coughing began.
My kids were essentially on their own. But trust me when I say that they weren't complaining. Unlimited TV watching and XBox playing? Bring it on. Breakfast for dinner and Subway on the run? Manna from heaven.
Once Chris was actually diagnosed, I did offer to stay home with him.
"What are you going to do? Watch me sleep?" he asked. "Go. We're fine here."
So, I listened to some Michael Buble as I cleaned the kitchen and caught up on some laundry, and I heard him shout weakly from our upstairs bedroom, "For God's sake, Katrina, you're killing me! Go to the movies! Go! I can't take the Michael Buble any longer!"
And that's when our friend, Larry, threatened to call Husband Protection Services.
I may not receive the Mother of the Year Award (well, we all knew that was a pipe dream anyway), and I'm probably out of the running for the Wife of the Year Award now, too. But the messages from some of those movies were a great reminder of what's truly important in this life.
Kindness for the sake of kindness. Existing for a greater good. People you love -- and who love you --unconditionally and without boundaries. Living your life as a blessing to those around you. Remembering, always, what's important and vital and right.
Yes, I may have abandoned my family for a week of popcorn overindulgence and steadfast support of the Kleenex industry, but when I returned to the heart of my home, I was rejuvenated. And when I speak of my home, I don't mean these walls, these furnishings, these things.
I mean Chris, the unwavering love of my life. I mean Sam, Gus, Mary Claire, and George. They are all bits of my own heart walking around outside my body.
Even when they balk at Michael Buble remakes of Willie Nelson classics.
Even then.
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