The Longest Summer XXXVI

It took three days to get home. Three days of thinking, reminiscing in my head and trying my best not to make my brother uncomfortable with my stray tears, sporadic sobs and sad stories. It felt good to be home, my sanctuary...I don't know that he has one of those. I sat down at my computer and looked through my schedule; I have the NYC marathon coming up...I can't fucking believe I have to run that again and I couldn't tell you exactly the last time I even laced up. Between work, family and prior commitments I wouldn't be able to go back until January, fuck that feels like a long time.

I called my dad at the hospital and was happy he recognized my voice right away...he must be getting better. The nurse notified me that they topped up his blood levels again and has regained his memory with little hallucinations over the past two days...I breathed a sigh of relief. He reiterated everything we had already spoke of during my visit and I listened and responded like it was my first time...he's still forgetful but that's expected with age and trauma. Then, I did something I had never done before...I made plans with him. I made plans to visit him without needing him to be deathly sick...and then I booked three rounds of flights to see him.

I know I know...I'm a fucking saint...