Spilled Milk

It was the kind of morning when the milk fell out of the fridge, dousing both feet in the process. I slid to the sink, lifted one foot and then the other into the running water. The floor wasn't so easily taken care of.

Running this morning was great, until I was struck with a pain in my gut and needed a restroom fast. We still had a half miles to go to get home. Good grief. My outlet ran out.

Dad had a hard time getting out the door this morning. He loves going to the family history center at my church, but this morning had me take him to a new, bigger location. Having never been there before, I mapped it and even then, got lost. Wrong address... It's nice to have this as a means of entertainment for him. He loves it, I love that I get a little free time. Play school for geriatrics.

My friend Tiffany and I met at Breaking Dawn for brunch. It was great to be there, so so great. Good good skillet...

I love having dad around, but dad is a constant. The other night, I tried to get some of my sewing in for my class. There was a set of instructions I was trying to make out, and having little luck with. Dad came in to keep me company, which meant chatting. I put my things away and chatted. I'm so far behind in my class.

So tonight, when I got to the pool, I decided I would and could be entirely selfish. Swim a mile, no matter if JE and dad were ready to go after the first twenty minutes. Dad did his workout, walking the width of the pool, forward and back along the tiled line dividing the shallow and deep areas of the pool. I swam laps.

JE counted the times dad and I nearly collided: five times. But I did it. My mile. The last six yards were killer. My energy ran out, and left me walking the last half lap. It's been too long since I've done that. I just need to maintain. In the beginning of my swim, I had a really discouraging thought about going nowhere with my training. I looked up and saw my father's slow moving frame and realized that I am running away from that kind of destiny. Diabetes sucks. Just keep swimming.

Punched in the gut feeling every time I think I should call mom.