one hundred twenty-two

Baby is going crazy, doing kick-spins around the room.

My mind is swimming in a migraine from no caffeine and too much reading of words on a screen. I made a pot of coffee. I am drinking it slowly.

My window is wide open, the blinds pulled up, my fan whirling. Winter is drifting out the window, leaving the carpet a bit sticky with humidity and the air crisp.

The old smell of our house is back– the one that reminds me of those first few weeks; when our voices echoed in the house; when we had no couch, no television, no microwave; when we, Rachel and I, split a bottle of V-8 in less than two days. When Joe was here and we had no idea what the next two years would do to us. Before France. Before he knew he wanted to be with me. Before I knew what it is to be homesick.

I am searching for a recipe for sweet tea. And sun tea. I'm contemplating freezing coffee in an ice cube tray, to make coffee ice cubes to plunk into iced coffee. My coffee is hot, leaving a bit of sweat-steam on my lip when I sip.

Joe has officially been selected as a lecteur for the Nancy-Metz region. We both have jobs. In the same part of the country. I got an e-mail from "Elvis" in France. He mailed a check with our refund. I'm hopeful that it will arrive, and more so that we'll be able to cash it.

Our wedding bands arrived. The saleswoman that spoke so kindly to us about her faith in us, that gave us a special discount for being young Christians in love, that promised to pray for us, that reminded us how easy it is to be happy when you let yourself, the saleswoman called Joe and told us to pick up the rings at our convenience. I remembered crying when I picked up my engagement ring alone, after Joe had returned to St. Louis. This time: no tears, unless their tears of pure excitement for how things are shaping up.

All and all, even though my eyes hurt and I can't look at the screen, even though there aren't enough hours, even though it would be easier for me to panic and cry... It is starting out as a wonderful, wonderful day.

Epilogue

Aforementioned Baby rabbit is now attempting to chew on the cord for the aforementioned whirling fan. This shall not ruin the aforementioned wonderful, wonderful day.