I’m glad to report that there’s not much to report today. I had long conversations with three dear friends and put another coat of paint on the new blue bathroom. Best of all, I smiled to myself when I brought some laundry up from the basement, thinking about when Hudson used to wait for me behind the door at the top of the stairs. I’d call to her as I was climbing up and she’d bend over to peer underneath the door and then giggle (“sssstttt!”) when she saw me. I’d stick my fingers under the door and play with hers, and then open the door and swoop her up into a hug. My sweet girl.
It was a day with only one brief teary moment, when talking with a friend at lunch. The last time I had a day like that, I felt terrible and filled with guilt, wondering what was wrong with me that I hadn’t cried harder that day. Today, I see it as a good thing, even if it ultimately proves just to be a time of rest before another round of acute grieving.
Tomorrow, I’m meeting my dad and brother at an amusement park near Richmond, where we’ll ride roller coasters all day. Is it too much to hope for three pretty decent days in a row?