This morning Brian slept in. And by sleeping in, I mean it was nearly 7:30, the girls and I had already woken up, breakfasted, watched
George the Monkey, drank cocoa, contemplated getting dressed, and read
the same book 15 times over. And then it was nearing 7:45. I should have been happy for him. I mean, if one of us can sleep in and get a full, good night's rest, it's good for everyone all around, right?
That's not what I was thinking.
I was sure he was no longer breathing.
I was sure he was gone. I didn't panic, nor did I check in on him. I just thought about what I needed to do next. Who should I call first? Well, first some medical personnel. Then probably Upper Orinda McFeely's, since they're about 5 minutes away from here. Then what? Well, then this week I'd plan on getting help with the girls, planning a service, cleaning out the freezer to accommodate the meals people would likely bring. Then, claiming the life insurance, paying off all debts, setting up college funds, calculating when I'd have to go back to work....
Strange?
I had these thoughts a LOT when I was pregnant with Erin. Every time Brian went on a run, I was certain that was it - when he left it was the last time I'd see him. I'd panic a bit, then be sad, then plan. It was a quick progression. Maybe because now we both have life insurance I skip the panic part of the sequence, but most of the inner monologue stays the same. The irrational, superstitious part of me says because I have these thoughts I'll never have to *really* think them. I hope.
Well, happily 8:00 rolled around and Brian rolled out of bed. We had some cereal and started our day.