I have earned this day. A day of just reading—required reading, but to me, just about any reading is a joy and grudgingly done only when I could be writing instead. Only a few little errands to run, a phone call to my father instead of the usual Monday visit, and then blessed hours spent reading.
As is my usual manner, I have stressed myself out this weekend over how time was to be spent and instead have almost thoroughly enjoyed what I had wasted time dreading. Brunch with a neighbor, dinner with J., giant gains in the framing workload, papers written, and best of all, a dinner with our closest friends. A meeting of three couples who over venison sauerbraten, coconut custard and apple pies and wine can face and get beyond the possibility that one of them may not be among them in a year. Facing, accepting, and getting back to a place as close to normal as the knowledge can allow. Playing games and laughing; embracing with hugs that include an extra squeeze of emphatic love that we have come to recognize is needed to be shown more often.
A good day. Each and every one.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology