Dancing in the Kitchen(ette).

Woke up to a cloudy rainy day in Houston. I was tired after another night of duvet wrestling and not much sleep. Went through the meds routine with the Mr., noting again, that the tiny temperature he had spiked yesterday morning was still with us. He said he felt ok, and got out of bed to come sit in the living room. I made some coffee and sat down for some quiet time in the little kitchenette of our hotel room with my Bible. Breakfast was pancakes, two each, and in the Mr.'s case, a mini bagel and some juice. Five minutes to clean the little kitchen, and then we just kind of hang around, he with his video game, me with my Psalms. Done with that, and I am literally drumming my fingers on the table and it's not even noon. We are bored. We have been here for 2 and a half months. Christmas and New Years have come and gone. The new liver got here fast and he recovered fast, but there have been some small hang ups that are keeping us here. I'm not complaining, I want to be here 'til he is completely well, however we are running out of things to do. But with his bit of a fever, and 20 percent of Houston down with C-19, we aren't going anywhere. So we sit together in marital peace, doing our own things, together. Lunch is leftover chicken fajitas and Spanish rice from last night, and the five minute clean up, and then we sit some more. Later in the afternoon I get out my paint by number and decide to dabble a little. It's coming along, not perfect by a long shot, but I like doing it, and it takes the edge off the boredom for awhile. I put Journey's greatest hits on You tube. Suddenly the boredom is gone. I am really enjoying myself. I had forgotten how great Journey really is. The Mr. asks me to put on some Boston and so I do. We rock and roll for an hour or so, and then it's six O'clock and dinner time. I get up to put on the Spaghetti sauce, and the Mr. meets me in the middle of the tiny hotel kitchen and we start dancing around. There isn't much room and we are old now, a lot older than we danced around to the BeeGees all those years ago. (Such is Life). It ends with laughter and two left feet. I won't say whose, but it wasn't the Mr.'s. Dinner, just the two of us, and he says I am spoiling him. I don't mind a bit. There is so much to be thankful for. Friends and family that gave us unending support throughout the last couple of years. They took care of the dog, and  and mowed the lawn and came for coffee. They labored with  us in prayer and called to see how we were doing. They helped us with our bills when we needed it. They took care of the house and drove down to visit us, and even surprised us at Thanksgiving and Christmas! Our two darling granddaughters, like two cherries on top of the proverbial cake crown my thankfulness. I have no words for the joy that wells up in me when I think about them. Being Grandma, (or Grandpa, as Arya calls both me and the Mr.) is simply the absolute best. We could never have done this without the support of everyone we know and love. Now on the other side of the illness I am still in complete awe of the way God worked everything out, right down to the tiniest details. I know I keep talking about it but I just can't get over it. I don't think I ever will get over and I don't think I ever want to get over it. We will be married thirty years this spring. Thirty years of ups and downs. Goods and bads. Sorrows and joys. Craziness and sanity. Alternating excitement and boredom. Thirty years of learning to live with each other, an education still ongoing. This anniversary will be a special one, I think, after all we have been through the last couple of years. We have been talking about it for a while now. What to do on our thirtieth? We had some ideas but all that was sidelined and we haven't made any more plans. I am, and I know the Mr. is just glad to be alive. We will be happy no matter what we do that day, even if we end up just dancing in the kitchen.