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A month without a highlight

There are no photos of myself on Instagram from May.


Because Instagram is a highlight reel.


And I resided in a shit show; the dark muck below rock bottom that worms don't even want to build a life in.


I didn't have inspiration to share or motivation to give.


The first week, we thought we were expanding our family.


A week later, it turned out all those "symptoms" were foreshadowing something else.


That's when we both tested positive for COVID.


For the next two weeks, my husband and I alternated between sitting on the couch and standing next to it, trying to loosen up our lungs and grasp at even the faintest taste of food.


I sat alone with my thoughts and anxiety until 2pm every day when my husband, who wanted to keep as normal of a night-shit schedule as possible, would wake up and make me forget about this newfound infection we were so careful not to get and ended up with anyway.


The day my husband was cleared to return to work, he got called in at 8:00pm.


The city was burning.


Approximately everyone in the world decided to hate him and his coworkers for the uniform they wear.


The uniform I see hanging in our closet every day.


The most incredible man I have ever known had to go in and protect thousands of people that openly detested him and his partners.


He had to go in and save their lives while they yelled things at him you wouldn't even scream at your worst enemies.


I watched him pull out of the driveway and thought of all the times I silently begged someone to bring him up so I could boast about his noble profession.


I've ordered so many Thin Blue Line shirts over the years, and wearing them all at once wouldn't be enough to showcase how proud I was (and still am).


Everything online was written against him.


The media sent his profession plummeting down a black hole of disgust.


How could someone openly hate this incredible man that taught his nephew to ride a bike and drinks the coffee his wife likes just because he knows it makes her happy even though he insists its always burnt?


This incredible man that has been there for lives coming in to the world, saved lives from leaving and continues to have the most amazing sense of humor about the hatred he recieves?


A man who will drive someone to the airport in torrential snow during rush hour, mow someone's lawn an hour away when they can't, and will pull over in a Walmart parking lot to change a lady's tire in the rain because she looks like she is struggling with it.


Who could hate someone like that?


The second night , I took our Thin Blue Line flag down from the front of our house.


Now it sits right inside the door as a constant reminder that there are people in the world full of so much hate I had to take my gosh damn flag down for the fucking safety of my family.


I didn't spend the nights at home when he was working; I spent it at friends' houses where we stared at the TV and waited for the phone to ring to let us know they were ok.


It was once we heard from them that we could then justify going to sleep.


We ran off coffee larger than the egos of those that detested him, his loyalty & his profession.


And on his first night off from the turmoil, we laid on the couch in pure silence as I contemplated every way I could get him to stay home from work for the rest of forever.


And now, as he goes back to work tonight, I think of the incredible group of people he works with; the bond they have, the trust they hold, and the amount of food they have been given from the incredible people in the community that know one does not define all.


I will always be proud of him; of every single person I see wearing the uniform.


He is the most incredible man, and they are the most astounding group of humans.


And maybe this piece is much too long, says way too much, and won't get posted because I've now begun to cry and I'm not entirely sure my computer will still work....


But writing is the only outlet I know (besides singing and trust me, no one wants to hear that). Also I'll include a picture of my dog because no one can be sad when he's around.


And no, I didn't say a prayer every day he went to work.


I started praying that first night, and haven't stopped.






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