Originally, we had tickets for August 23. We were set to do the UK – Scotland, Ireland, a touchdown in Wales, and then jolly old England. This was to be the beginning of a six to ten month tour – the beginning of our new life – the beginning of living, instead of existing. Then, the phone call came.
Luckily, it’s one of the ‘good’ ones. We’ll get it treated, removed, and then move on. Polyp removals, CT scans, colon tattoos, surgery – this can be managed.
While we’re waiting, we learn about lethal hurricanes, typhoons, flooding, earthquakes, more bombings, and Trump and Kim Jung-un facing off like deadly megalomaniacal sociopathic children!
My first-world problem is minor. We haven’t lost our home. We don’t have children buried in the debris of an earthquake. We don’t have H-bomb missiles flying over us.
Last night, my phone rang again. Should I answer it? What is it this time? My heart is pounding; my stomach is flip-flopping… it’s the Sunrise Health Region. Something happened with Shawn’s mother!
Maybe we aren’t supposed to go. Maybe the universe (or someone or something) is trying to tell us to settle in to our couch, our backyard, our routine and quietly live out our days in relative safety.
But we’re going to try one more time. Today, we fly to Calgary, and from Calgary to London, England.
Shawn’s mom is okay. She is SO strong, so fierce! She is surrounded by good friends and good family and urges us to continue. She’s upset and surprised we were notified (Seriously, Joan? You know we want to know!) ), but wants us to start our journey.
And so we do.