I imagine we were quite the sight to behold as we made our grand exit from the hospital. I rode like a queen in my wheelchair with my mad scientist hair and too short fleece pants, clutching my gorgeous roses from Monica, my face still splotchy from my sobfest on the phone this morning with Beth. Bella proudly pushed the wheelchair, sharing the handles with the sweet aide who’d spent hours over the past three days in my room chatting with me, her red curls bearing the windblown look of chaos.
Bear led the way, a few steps behind Daddy who ran ahead to get the car and escort us home. He tossed a casual look back every now and then to be sure we were following, “I know the way to the elevator, Mom.” he called, green eyes sparkling proudly, tripping over too small sandals and increasing the size of the hole in his pants. (Can you tell it’s time to update the wardrobe again?) My Buddy walked beside me, as always, my sensitive one, hand on my arm, my protector. I could hear the soft vroom-vroom of his corduroy pants with each step. If he could smile any wider, his face would have broken. We moved slowly down the halls, at a Bella pace, and faces lit up everywhere.
Yes, I imagine it was a sight to behold. I think it was a beautiful one.