ok here

I married a wonderfully hard-working man, who comes home from a 12 hour shift and uncomplainingly deals with a basement--our home--dripping with last night's rain. Fans and wet-vacs and dehumidifiers and infinite patience. This evening I was inhaling (as I do) old photos of my father-in-law as the suave, two buttons down person he was at 21, and I feel a bit of a stab when I forget, sometimes, that he wasn't always in a wheelchair. But, oh, I feel lucky to be doggedly pursuing dryness and comfort and future with his son, the product of that confident grin. I am ok here.