We're walking this incredible journey together - one that physically started a year ago this month when I joined her on the ranch. What a ride since then.
She's my best friend. Our relationship is one not many daughters have the honor of sharing with their mother.
While I'm washing the dishes in my work clothes, she's helping one of her kids with their homework. I drove 75 miles today to get to her only to follow her home. We lamented the fact we were in two vehicles so we just talked on the phone the whole way.
Moments like those make the other moments, the more stressful ones, fade.
We have stressful moments, you know. I'm guessing the kind that makes some husbands and wives sleep in seperate beds and maybe walk away from each other. We wonder if we're going to make it, if we're doing enough, if we could do more.
We console each other, pat each other on the back, laugh together and most definitely cry together. We yell at each other too and not because we're mad. I guess we're just passionate and we both think the higher the octave, the more the other person will understand the point.
We annoy each other too.
I hate her lamp. She trips over my dog every morning. I'm always picking her Sweet-n-Low packets off the counter. She gets mad when I leave her keys in the truck. She criticizes my driving; I pull over and offer her the wheel.
But I love her.
There's no other person I'd want to be walking this journey with than her.