We all have our gifts, and I am a very accomplished worrier. The sound of a homecoming meant God had forgiven me.
So when we hit the button tonight to open the garage door after our hour at the gym, I whispered "thank you" again. The boy drove himself to Sapulpa and back and again forgot to text me to tell me he had arrived. Sometimes, I think he just gets caught up in the moment; sometimes, I think he resents the reality.
I stared at the back of the Pilot parked neatly in our garage and remembered what it was like to be whole.
Thankful for both feelings - the memory of being whole and sincere gratitude....