At the Beginning

So, Joseph is home. It is surreal.  We pulled up in front of the house and face-timed the kids, pretending we were still at the hospital. Kai asked, "Where are you? Are you outside? They let you in the parking lot?" Next thing we knew, Zoe was running out of screen-view and into real-view. It was heart-wrenching. The kids' faces were priceless as they realized their dad was back. Wow. I wanted to wrap the moment up and put it in my pocket. I think I did, actually.
But let's rewind...After getting his port yanked from Dr. Ross, the surgeon who installed the crazy thing, we started packing up his room. I could tell that Joseph was agitated and a bit reluctant to leave his 8th story view. But we walked out with bike in tow and heads held high through the hall. His nurse, Natalie, gave him a parting hug and told him she never wanted to see him again. We made it to the elevator and down. Walking, walking, walking the maze toward the parking lot, neither of us speaking. As we passed through the double doors to the outside, I was hauling ass toward the car, and realized I had lost my partner. As I stopped and turned around, there he was, at a stand-still. Eyes closed, hat off, face to the sun. Of course. It's the first breeze, the first light, the first breath of outside in 20 days. Of course. I found his shoulder and cried. And cried. And cried. He's been through so much. so so much. And he made it. We made it. And drove home with his hand on my leg in silence. Traffic was thick, and crazy drivers abounded. None of it mattered. We were free and on our way home.