Last night Emma was working and Mark was at scout camp and it seemed like the perfect time to go to dinner to celebrate our anniversary that is later this week. We had a reservation at a posh restaurant at Sundance and I was looking forward to it.
Then, Mark called. He had gashed his leg on an unseen underwater pipe when he was jumping into some water. We needed to go get him.
I cancelled the reservation and I called Adam. He said, "OK, I'll pack up my stuff right now and come home."
It was doing what we do. Side by side. For 22 years it's been us together, figuring out what needs to be done, trying our best to take care of business. We listened to podcasts and talked and held hands while we drove. It seemed like a good way to celebrate our anniversary after all.
Mark doesn't need stitches and his tetanus shot is up to date. He's hoping that a day of resting at home instead of hiking in Arches National Park with the rest of the scouts will cure him sufficiently that he can go back tomorrow for river rafting (Adam was planning to go anyway so he can take him back). He will recover, his swimsuit not so much.
I'm grateful for the good scout leaders who are away from their jobs and families for the week, taking care of my boy. They were concerned about him and patched him up and are the kind of men I would love for Mark to emulate.
Sometimes a gashed leg shows you how good you have it.
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