When I was 15 years old my sister, Chrisy, was in a terrible car accident. For those who personally know my family, you probably remember it. As time goes by, some of the memories have faded, but the feeling of pain is not far from reach. I remember watching my sister’s boyfriend (now husband) pace in the emergency room. I remember seeing her best friend who worked at the hospital try to console my parents, when she probably needed consoling. But the #1 memory is right before she was air lifted, a nurse brought out a Ziploc bag of my sister’s jewelry and pony tail holders. My dad and my mom stood up and took the bag. My mom pressed the bag against her chest and looked up at my dad. She began hysterically crying and said, “my baby… that’s my baby!”
Worry smacked me in the face. Chrisy … my best friend was in serious condition. Tears poured down my parents faces. I couldn’t speak. I literally, COULD… NOT… SPEAK. I didn’t know what to say and I physically couldn’t get words to come out. I worried. I worried to my deepest core. My dad is a man of few words and he is VERY emotionally strong. My mother is super woman. Seriously. She can literally handle and do anything and everything. But that day was different. My dad was broken and my mom was weak. I was WORRIED. I hurt. I was sick with worry.
I don’t want Charlie to feel that. I pray he doesn’t feel that type of worry and pain. I cannot shake the feeling I had that day 15 years ago. I do not want him to feel even an ounce of it.
So, we had a Charlie afternoon.
"Tractors" were involved.
So was ice cream.
Soda was added.
We had a photo shoot on the Missouri State University-West Plains campus.
Our date ended with a nurf gun and Spiderman sunglasses.