Sorting Myself Out

My husband had an accident at work today.

He's fine. Don't panic. Well, sorta fine. His leg is in a rubber velcro leg cast and he's on pain medication.

We're all very thankful that he's ok and that his leg should return to it's normal size. Soon.

I was merrily chatting with my kids at the kitchen table earlier today. We're learning about germs right now. And I got a text message from him saying he was at the hospital, that I didn't need to come and he was ok. (Of course, we hopped in the van and made raucous noise in the ER room over our safe and wonderful Daddy-man!)

Moments before I was playing with my kids, having a grand old time. We had been at the library when we heard the ambulance go by. The ambulance that was carrying my husband. I was unaware that he was inside, even though I peeked out the window to see if it was a fire truck or an ambulance.

Sometimes I've known he's been in danger. And other times I haven't. There's this deep hope I have that because we are so connected to each other and share such a deep love that if he were to hurt himself I would instantly know.

But today I didn't know. I was blissfully unaware that while I was enjoying my life, he was being laying on the ground being made to laugh by the co-workers jokes . While I chased my one year old around, he was looking around the ambulance and wondering about all the people who've ridden in it before him.

I don't like that feeling.

I like being safe in his arms, his chin resting on my head as he strokes my hair.