|Katie can't get over these glads. "Why are they so tall? And so heavy?"|
A couple of years I've gone to dinner with friends to celebrate. Some years I take Cooper and Katie to dinner. (Though last year and this year, Cooper has been away on Boy Scout adventures.) I usually buy myself flowers (this year white glads, in plentiful supply at Kroger).
But, let's be honest, it's a bit depressing and odd to go all-out to celebrate a day when half of the couple is no longer living -- even if July 2, 1994, is one of my Top 10 days ever.
So today will likely be like most other days around here.
I'm nursing fuzzy Margie, who came out of surgery on Monday and has been home since Tuesday, living with a plastic cone around her neck. She's confined to a crate most of the day, coming out for brief walks around the house and on our block. (The trickiest part is making sure there are no rabbits or squirrels nearby when we walk. Margie is supposed to stay calm and quiet for about three weeks. Cute vermin rile her up faster than the word "treat.") The scar on her abdomen is shockingly long, but the pain meds and sustained rest seem to be helping. We'll have biopsy results in the next couple of days.
I'm continuing work on a freelance project, a huge, fascinating book-editing project that is taking more time than I expected.
I'm taking Katie to a nearby water park with Liz and Noe. (Liz and I hope to get there early enough to grab seats in the shade to serve as home base while the girls run around and slide and swim. We plan to visit and read.)
At dinner tonight, Katie will say grace and thank God for the day.
Before Katie goes to bed tonight, we'll continue our current read-aloud, The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart.
I'm celebrating the same way we do every day around here -- we keep on living. That's the gift we get daily. We get to wake up, walk, spend time together, work, read, pray, take care of one another, forge adventures.
We get a new chance every single day. And that's worth celebrating every day, no matter the date on the calendar or the cheerful memories from 21 years ago or the now six anniversary dates without Steve.
|Tyra and Steve, July 2, 1994|