It’s deciding to up and leave town for the night without notice, just to do something new.

It’s packing haphazardly as he books a hotel room, not worrying about what ends up in the bag, as long as the essentials make it in and a cat doesn’t.

It’s laughing as we realize how much we laugh.

It’s the fact that a bottle of insulin, an extra infusion set, and an unopened box of test strips made it into the bag reflexively.

It’s going to bed at two in the morning, planning the next day’s excursion without mentioning “bloodsugars”, “insulin”, and “the pump.”

It’s checking my meter at nine o’clock at night – after a day of driving, a few exploration stops, checking into the hotel, enjoying a fancy Italian dinner and a bottle of wine – and noticing that today’s bloodsugars don’t go under 87 mg/dl or above 139 mg/dl.

It’s noticing that the hotel we’ve chosen to stay in (in the middle of the woods and in the basin of the shadow of a mountain) should have come with a banjo in the bedside table drawer instead of a Bible.

It’s the realization that the day doesn’t have to be entrenched in testing, bolusing, fretting, and perfect bloodsugars to be a Good One.

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