countdown
The moment is almost here — 923 minutes as I type this sentence.
Eight years ago this week, The Husband finished his radiation treatment for thyroid cancer. Among other things, this entailed following a low-iodine diet and, in somewhat of an irony given current times, he had to be quarantined in our bedroom for a solid week.
Towards the end of those long days, the kids were bouncing off the walls with eager anticipation of seeing their dad. The Boy started a countdown of sorts, tracking the minutes until the nanosecond when it would be safe for dad to emerge. I’m glad I took a photo because it makes me smile every year when it shows up in my Facebook memories. It’s maybe the only thing that makes me smile from that time.
I’ve been feeling that same type of giddy anticipation for the last few days, marking the hours, minutes and seconds until Joe Biden becomes our 46th President of the United States. The moment is almost here — 923 minutes as I type this sentence.
Tomorrow morning, the soul-less monster who has been slithering around The White House and our psyches for four long years is anticipated to depart the premises in true loser fashion, fleeing to Florida like the coward he’s…
