Throwing up on your driveway

The best for last?  Not always

The last part of anything CAN BE the hardest.  Like:

Your worklife.  When you are about to retire in the Bahamas with your cute, fun, athletic, wine-loving best friend after working like a dog for 25 years the last 6 months on the job are for crap.

 

Your trip cross country in your Subaru with your dog and a wad of cash.  You throw up in your driveway from being carsick after 3,000 smooth miles on the road and a bucket of dramamine.

Your (daughter's) game.  She gets pulled after pitching beautifully for 5 innings twice (double header).  Under pressure in 95 degree heat all day. Because the bases are loaded and her team is up 3 to 2 she comes off the mound.  She's a competitor and wants it so bad she could eat the softball, but another child's fresh arm comes in to close it out.  She cries.  So do you.  Not because she wanted the win but she wanted to finish.

Your skin surgery.  After 97 stitches from  the collarbone up to remove silly basal cell carcinomas you get a scar sanded and look like this at first.

And then this.

I gave a presentation like this in front of about 150 middle and high schoolers and a cosmonaut from Russia.  I look like Gorbechev.

Soon I will be smooth as silk.  The last surgery is certainly the best.

Your marathon.   The last few miles hardest and best.

Your mother's breath.  The last few were the hardest but the best.  The best  because she was here. The hardest because now she's not.   I hope you feel good about everything you do.  It might be the last time.  It could be the best.  It might be both.

What hit you like a Tonka Truck today?