I slept on the couch with my contacts in. I woke up at 5, per usual. It’s my time to cry and then pull it together. I am exhausted. I am so afraid. I feel like someone else should be in charge. And then Ashton wakes up around 730 and I see the purpose of my day.

I have allowed him much more latitude this trip home. I don’t care if he licks the pavement or runs barefooted. I want him to be a rough and tumble boy all the way until midnight tonight when he is cut off from food and liquids for 24 hours.

When he gets up this morning we will water our flowers and the garden, Mommy mastered the lawn mower so that’s done for a few days. I have wonderful people in our community (you know who you are) and I love you for it, to mow and water while we are gone for round three which begins tomorrow with a fairly important surgery.

When I got the call yesterday about the check-in time. I burst out crying. The last few days have been so stressful with the family¬†“side show” (to quote a friend), it felt like my heart couldn’t take it. I felt like screaming. Just ONE more day. Stop messing with this child’s body! Postpone cancer until Winter. Postpone it to infinity.

But guess what? I cannot afford to not live in reality. The second I check out is the second something goes awry. I have to be on my toes. We have to cram as much life in to the next several hours as we can. Well, all we can while packing up LIFE and moving yet again to Dayton. Didn’t we just get home?

Bet your ass we will have a fire out back tonight and bet your ass we will catch some fireflies. We may even eat mulberries off the GROUND. we will run and sweat and play soccer and ride bikes and go to the park and maybe even cast a line.

Maybe we will get a bite.