The boys have been gone for a week but they left a large tracing on our sidewalks and our hearts.
Sidewalk chalk is such a great invention. In their home of San Antonio, I don't know how long Drew and Noah can stay outside to create such art when the summer comes. Folks from down there say that for 3 or 4 months, it is normal to move from air conditioned rooms to air conditioned cars to air conditioned stores, etc. when the temp rises to the high 90's and 100's.
I know that when we were there in June, the heat was oppressive by 11 AM and life slowed down until around 8:30 as the sun was setting.
Here in the more temperate clime, the boys created great, lengthy pictures that told stories. Train tracks, great circles around what they IDed as cats and dogs, and the occasional D R E W, underlined. All in a rainbow of colors.
I walked over their work and marveled at its staying power. Then, Monday, we had a much needed rain shower and while the grass was relieved, the chalk art washed away. The last few tangible remnants of their time with us are fading. In our hearts, they are stamped forever.
Not to belabor the point with the heavy, obvious metaphor, our lives are described as a vapor. We need to leave more than chalk marks on cement. My dear husband will someday move on and in his place will be the many people he has touched in his life. They have had time to come and tell him themselves. They STILL have time to drop by. What a gift for Mike and for them.
Today, Wednesday, Mike finished his radiation treatments. The oncology center celebrates such events. There is a bell ringing ceremony and the staff gathers to applaud. Then hugs and thank yous and "Go and enjoy your life."
Zach captured it all on video and then we went out to breakfast. Time now to live, no tubes, no appointments for a while.
Next on our agenda: Mom arrives from Florida 8/28 and then we all get to celebrate Mike's birthday, 8/29.
God is good. His mercies are everlasting. Again (and again and again), thank you for your prayers for us.