I'm still here

"You're getting good at this," Kari said. I was holding back Kaylee's hair and propping her up while Kari held a "bucket" under her chin.

Within seconds of Kaylee getting sick the first time the entire house had mobilized. Kari was making a sick bed on the couch, cleaning vomit out of the carpet, getting wet washcloths and buckets ready (she really is Superwoman!). I had Kaylee in the bathroom getting clean pajamas on and scrubbing her little fingers where she had tried to catch the sickness before it hit the floor. And Tim was comforting the other girls who were either grossed out by the whole affair or jealous that Kaylee would get to sleep in the living room while Aunt Katie and Mommy watched their shows.  

We were on round 3 or 4 of this when Kari told me I was getting good. 

It wasn't exactly the evening we had planned. But I went home happy. Feeling sorry for poor Kaylee, of course, and praying the rest of the family doesn't end up sleeping on the couch. But happy nonetheless.

Because it has been so easy to get caught up in being gone for two months that sometimes it feels like I've already left. That all my thoughts and conversations are about what it will be like when I Walk With Spain. Or even what it will be like coming home.

But feeling like I'm already gone isn't what I want for my last few days here. 

I want to be present to these moments. Here. Now. The dailiness and the ordinary. To make ponytails and memories. Hold hands and be happy. To feel like I'm still part of this life. 

Because I am still here. Not yet there. And it's the ordinary moments--the family dinners and reading books, the laughter and tears--that I imagine missing the most.