On Sunday morning I packed David's bag.
He was headed across the country to bring home the bacon.
I got a tutorial from my dad (the expert) on how to pack a business suitcase and arrive without a single wrinkle. I was pretty brilliant at it.
I picked David up late last night. He was exhausted and smiling and wrinkle-free.
As we lay in bed Saturday night I asked him if he was nervous. He said no. But when I picked him up last night he had a cold sore. (A sure sign of stress, a dead give-away...but I didn't let on.)
He also had a mind full of things to say and process, a carry-on bag full of laundry and dry-cleaning, and a camera full of pictures of a quaint downtown, rolling hills, houses with trees out front, and even a barn or two for me.
I expect this will be our new kind of normal for a while. Me packing and praying and picking up. Him exploring the country's various airports while sporting new cold sores on his handsome, not-nervous face.
I cried a little when I dropped him off on Sunday. Overwhelmed a bit, I guess, that he would do all this for us.
Even if he wasn't nervous.
Not one little bit.
[This morning when I served cold cereal for breakfast Savannah said, "I thought Dad was bringing home bacon." Ha! I'm still smiling about it.]