Tomorrow morning, when the sun comes up and the school buses begin their stop-start traffic flow, when harried mothers rush school kids into the minivan and strap still sleepy babies into carseats, when workmen in plaid shirts stop at Golden Pantry for sausage link biscuits while their wives make their pitstops at Starbucks drive through to snatch up venti caramel latte’s, The Mister begins his new job. If you told us both years ago when he was a curly headed blond man with tall lanky legs and broad shoulders carrying sheetrock through Horton Homes that he would be a nurse, he would have laughed and asked you to move out of the way because the multiple sheets of “rock” were getting heavy.
But I never laughed about it. I knew it all along.
Don’t you dare tell me you are too old to go back to school. I refuse to hear anyone’s excuses that changing careers in your forties is just to difficult. You won’t get any sympathy for the Welch’s if you want to whine about how hard it is to “teach an old dog new tricks”. No, because if The Mister can become a licensed nurse, by gosh, there’s nothing he can’t do….or you either for that matter.
His scrubs are cleaned and ready to go. I reminded him he is not “the Bossman”…..at least not yet. We will swap stories about blood, guts or maybe just the hilarious things our patients said at the end of the day. This new season is just for us.
And don’t tell The Mister just yet, but we will be in Africa, or New Guinea, or Morroco one day not so far away. He will laugh and say, ” I never would have believed I would have ended up as a nurse on the mission field”.
But I won’t be laughing about it. I knew it all along. You don’t just “happen” to become a nurse when you are 45. No, it’s the beginning of our biggest adventure yet.