I just had two very different thoughts, and so...
Thought #1
As a growing eco-conscious family on a non-growing budget in an eco-/environmentally-friendly town, we decided, with Audrey not currently working and possibly going back to work part-time, that we no longer needed two cars, what with gas prices (we axed the gas hog, not my 45+ mpg lovely) and extra costs. Therefore, to appease me both vehicularly and physically, we bought me a modest road bike (a Bianchi) to get to and from work on nicer days and to make amends for me not playing hockey all the time any more.
Today was the second day I have ridden (in at least 2-3 years) and I made it the entire way to work, non-stop, no dying. Now, 3.4 miles might not seem like a lot, particularly to the midwestern family members, but remember, this is Asheville, Western NC. We have hills, and lots of them.
As I rode those hills into work, the cool misty breeze of a morning after rainstorms brushed my sleepiness away, I thought about finances, family, and what else I can do to make sure my family is happy. Because if Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Thought #2
I just logged into my account (this was not supposed to be in this post, but like I said...) and the images were being displayed and flipping through my photo gallery (http://picasaweb.google.com/m.laurence.olivier/MasonMichaelOlivier) and then the one of Audrey during labor popped up. Just seeing that image took me back to that day, catching fits of sleep in the corner like feral cats, laying with her as the contractions slid from one into the next, overtaking her body.
Although we have science to tell us all of the hidden secrets of the mysteries of life, there is no rationale for fondly remembering watching the love of your life fall through ebbs and flows of such disparaging pain. But then again, now I see, every morning, every afternoon, every evening, smiling, screaming, and staring blankly, what became of her pain and perhaps that is what sets me apart from the Michael who took that picture. He, the one who cried to see his wife in such pain. Me, the one who gets to hold his son, the one she so willingly, bravely, and miraculously brought into this world.
What else can I do...?
