Home Sweet Home

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Perrie

"Home sweet home." I say, finally unlocking our front door and letting Jade inside.

It's been a LONG several months, but we made it, and I am truly grateful that we did. I was scared, and couldn't shake the thoughts of us never walking through these doors together again.

I tried to keep the faith, but as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, at times I feared the worst. I cried and prayed and cried and prayed day and night for her, and now here we are.

Home sweet home.

We obviously still have a long road ahead of us, but at least we can work on things together, from the comfort of our home.

I stand aside and watch her take slow and steady steps inside. She can walk just fine, but the doctors said that distance might be a little challenging for her right now. By the looks of it, walking from the car to the house has her a bit winded.

They sent us home with a walker, which led us to our most recent disagreement. She doesn't want it, but I wouldn't let her leave it. I said that it would be nice to have around, in case she ever does need it, and she argued that she wouldn't, that she's not helpless, and that she could walk on her own.

Of course I didn't back down because her logic was based purely on her bruised ego, and I was more concerned with her bruised body and brain. She eventually realized that I was right, and apologized over and over again for snapping at me the way she did.

I understood. She's in a tough place right now. A place where she's grateful to be alive, but sad that she can't do all of the things she used to as quickly anymore. I keep trying to comfort her and tell her it'll get better. That's all I can do. That, and make sure she's not laying around wallowing in self pity, and actually trying to get better.

She goes back and forth between the two a lot, and it makes my head spin, but I love her to death. She's my wife, and that means I'm going to stay beside her through everything. In sickness and in health, right? And I'm going to always push her to be her best, even if she pushes me back.

In the beginning, our arguments were very heated because I was actually arguing back with her. Both of us were screaming and yelling and hurting each other. I've since learned that she is hurting both mentally and physically, and that really has nothing to do with me.

Her feelings sometimes rush out at not so great times, and me being there, I usually get the worst of it. I think I've developed a sort of thick skin when it comes to that now, because I know she doesn't mean it, and no more than an hour after, she's going to be sobbing and crying in my arms about how sorry she is.

She's frustrated, and she has every right to be. I usually just leave her alone to her thoughts and let her cool off, and by that time, she's crying oceans to me. It hurts to know that she's feeling that way, and there's not much I can do to fix it.

I put the folded up walker against the wall and shut the door behind her, and she stands there, just looking around. I don't know what she's thinking or feeling, so I don't disturb her. A moment later, she walks over and sits down on the couch.

"Can I make you something to eat?" I ask softly, waddling closer to her. "I know you have to be sick of hospital food."

"I would love that." She says, looking up at me with soft brown eyes that I've missed so much. Eyes that I thought I'd never see again. "But I want you to get off your feet."

"I will once I feed you. I promise." I reply, and she looks at me for a moment before reluctantly nodding her head. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." She sighs.

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