It’s 1 a.m. and I’m about to fall asleep. I’m exhausted from all of this, but I was doing fine taking care of last-minute details — until this afternoon when I would up looking for something in the utility closet. I turned around to see all the kids’ measurements on the back of the door. Meghan backed up to the door and then turned around and mentioned that she’s a couple inches taller than Mike was at 12. I looked at the door and remembered that Mike spent summers in this house when his father owned it, and there were all the markings from his growing up. There’s a line and next to it. “Mike, age 11.” And another: “Mike age 12.”
I don’t know why, but it got to me. I didn’t cry for the TV camera yesterday, but I blubbered like a fool today when I saw that door.
12 hours and we’re there. Wish us luck.
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