Home, that is.
Dorothy’s magical red slippers in The Wizard of Oz. (courtesy of drafthouse.com)
I didn’t have to tap my ruby red slippers together three times to get here–just climb ever so carefully in and out of a Chevy Traverse a few times and then a dusty Jeep for the final leg of the journey. Finally, with the assistance of a quad cane and my dear hubby, I navigated across the yard, past the enthusiastic greetings of Rascal and Elvis and up the steps to the deck. A few more steps, and I was home.
When you aren’t feeling well, there really is no place quite like home. As much as I loved those glorious views I shared with you all, and the time I spent with my darling sister, I stretched out last night with a most satisfied sigh on my own bed, cradled by the memory foam topper.
Benny kindly unloaded the vehicle, brought me some aspirin and reminded me to stick a pillow under my ankle. He’d already fitted a foam tube to the fat purple toe and taped it to the one next door while we were still in Orange Beach. Really, with a broken “little piggy” there isn’t much else you can do, except to give it time and try not to aggravate the injury.
I was so exhausted I fell asleep early, woke up enough to bid him a good day at work and then drifted back to sleep again, cozy and comfy under the quilt and throw, the little heater keeping the bedroom nice and snug.
It’s been almost a year since he had to tend to me and a busted body part. Thank goodness it was only the toe this time around and not my tailbone. And thank goodness it happened at the end of my visit and the beginning. There is always something to be thankful for, isn’t there?
As always, I am thankful for all of you, and for the delightful human being who brought us together in the first place.
Because there’s nobody quite like him, is there?
He’s just what we’d been waiting for . . .