We’ve made some plans. We are planning on meeting our kids and all three of our caregivers at our lake house for a photography session. We have a new Lyle, a new Noah and a new Erica since our last family photo and it’s time to update and the lake seems a great locale for the pics. As it happens, Lyle’s sister is a pretty accomplished photographer so, bingo, picture time.
We have other plans for June. My niece, Kate, the pending Presbyterian preacher, is marrying Lee, the Liverpoolian, we plan on going to the wedding and some of the other assorted affairs. It should be quite the soiree with me sweating (it’s June, it’s hot and I sweat) and Marty humming (she’s a hummer).
We actually have even more plans. At the end of June we are planning one of our quixotic voyages to Dalhart to see Marty’s mother. This time we hope to have our new Lyle and our new Noah, along with their associated family members, fly out to meet us. Marty keeps saying the kids can all fly to Amarillo and we can pick them up there. I keep saying, nay nay, if we get all of those people they will want to stop for bathroom breaks and junk like that, no thanks, we can make better time on our own and that’s what epic trips are about, making good time.
Before Marty got sick she was great about making plans and was constantly looking to make some. Not me. For me, making plans equaled making a commitment and I wasn’t always very good with commitments, especially if it meant taking time away from work. I thought way too much of my work self and was much too involved with keeping my daily routine uncluttered. Marty was okay with making wild plans, a lot of plans and if we could do them, great, if not, she would make more plans.
Circle back to today and I’m the one who must make the plans. If we are going to do anything I’m the guy, I’m frankly the only plan guy. Karma does have its way with us. I’m not only the originator but the facilitator and the logistician.
I do all of our planning with the clear understanding of our current limitations. We live in a day-to-day world and plans are just that, plans. They are all theory until we do them; they are things we want to do, things we would like to do, they are often just hopes.
Marty’s daily health, Marty’s medical needs, Marty’s doctor appointments, Marty’s reasonable limitations are the deciding factors in what plans become reality. If she gets sick, we change plans, it just has to be that way. We are fortunate that all of our family understands our daily reality, that’s how we can miss a Thanksgiving at the last minute or how we can spend a son’s birthday at the hospital or how my Father can find a last minute substitute for our Masters Golf tournament trip. I hate all of the last minute changes, especially that Masters thing, but a broken arm seems to take priority.
It’s not in my nature to be flexible, I like to know what’s going to happen, I like to feel in control, and I prefer to know if and when we will be able to do something. This whole living day-to-day and taking things as they come is a struggle for my brain, it often just doesn’t compute very well. It seems so easy, living day-to-day rolls so trippingly off the tongue, but for some of us it ain’t such an easy task. I know I’m happy and more satisfied with life when we can just take plans as they come and deal with the day as it gets there.
In the grand scheme of things, we really are thrilled to still be able to plan and do things together, even if it’s always kind of up in the air. It’s funny how things work out, that’s exactly how Marty always wanted to live.