It started on a morning when both of our children were sick.
Our son, Sam, had a fever that reached 103 degrees. Our daughter, Ellie, could barely keep down toast. I had already spent nearly two nights awake, moving between their bedrooms, checking temperatures, changing sheets, giving them fluids and trying to keep myself functioning while still dealing with work.
I was exhausted.
Completely exhausted.
David, meanwhile, was standing in our bedroom packing a suitcase.
I initially assumed he was traveling for work.
Then he casually dropped the sentence that changed everything.
“I’m taking Mom on a cruise.”
I stared at him.
“A cruise?”
“A fourteen-day Mediterranean cruise,” he replied, as though he were announcing a weekend getaway.
I looked toward the children’s rooms.
“They’re both sick.”
“I know.”
“And you’re leaving?”
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