We're home, a long day so far and still a few hours to go before I can sleep. I went to bed around eight o'clock last night after struggling through chills and a raging fever and I couldn't hold a cup of the final mystery tea so Jacob gently ordered me to bed. It would have been wonderful to sleep but I was up at twelve to get water for Henry, who still wakes up coughing here and there, and then again at 3 when my stomach decided that antibiotics were the worst thing ever and I woke the whole house up with wonderful retching sounds. Always fun.
This morning we had family therapy, then medical checkups to make sure Henry is clearing up (he is) and the rest of us haven't gotten any worse (we're not) and then we went to a Van Gogh mixed media tribute installment at a gallery with Joel. Afterward he took us all to lunch, where I had the best cup of tea in the world. Maybe it was simply better for having followed the works of a painter that gives me the chills when I look closely at his work, as when I looked at the paper this morning, reading about his final piece going up for public sale, I was struck by how light and colorful it was but also by how much homesickness it conveyed to me. Amazing. Did you know he tried and failed to become a minister before taking up painting in his late twenties? That's where his spirituality speaks, in his brush strokes. Phenomenal.
This afternoon we went for groceries and bought more tea and more soup makings and a giant combo pack of day/nyquil for me to dive into and we're not going to church tomorrow either, having been told by Sam to stay home and get well and then Jacob can conduct services next weekend which will be fun and comforting to have him back where he belongs. Plus Sam is scared to death of germs and avoids people who are under the weather while Joel is so important he never gets colds and therefore doesn't care. It's funny but what is wonderful is they both care about what is good for us, and that will always be a fine arts exhibition for Bridget and a day off for Jake.
I'm off now with yet another cup of tea (fully labeled!) to go and snuggle in beside Jacob while he writes in front of the fire. He's a much better writer than I am anyway, only not when he writes about life. His words turn to lyrics only when he waxes on the big picture, the philosophical nature of life itself, God, love, eternal happiness. Not so much when writing about tea.
We're a pretty diverse and interesting bunch, I think.
And yes, I happily bought him a case of his favorite cookies today. Only he wants to keep them on top of the fridge from now on. Fine by me.
Oh and for the scorekeepers of irrational reactions, you will be pleased to know that Ruth pointed out as we drove home that the geese were flying south for the winter. Sure enough, I looked out the truck window and saw the great wide v-formations in the sky and promptly burst into tears. It's sort of becoming a tradition.
