Today was my wedding anniversary. Well, I guess technically it is the anniversary of the day I got married. The second time.
It’s just a day. There are 364 days just like it. A day that started at 12:00a and that will end at 11:59. The sun came up. The sun will do down. This day will be made of 24 hours. That’s it. It’s just a day.
There wasn’t anything to celebrate on this day. Nothing to look back on or forward to…not the kind of things one typically looks back on or towards on their anniversary day.
There was no one to share anything with. My babies didn’t know this was anything but a Sunday. It’s not a day fhat matters to anyone else. I busied myself so as not to think too much about the day. I put the finishing touches on my little ones costume. I made my girls soft fuzzy pillows as a test for some Christmas presents I want to make. I sewed a new pillow for my couch. I made baked spaghetti and cheddar bay biscuits. It was a normal Sunday. There was laundry to be done and dishwashers to be unloaded. So that’s what I did. I did everything I was supposed to do. Everything that was expected of me.
Except I didn’t get out of my pajamas. I didn’t put on make-up or even get out of my glasses. I didn’t go visit my friends. I didn’t function outside the walls of my tiny little house.
I couldn’t be sad. Not visibly anyway. I had little eyes on me all day. They wouldn’t have understood and I didn’t have the words to explain it to them. Instead they thought it was their lucky day. Their “hang out” and “do whatever” day. Those don’t happen so often around here.
Friday I got divorced and Sunday I ignored the day that started it all. It’s a lot to take in on such a short amount of time. And I had a bigger job to do than dealing with ME. I had costumes to make and driving lessons to give. There were groceries to buy. There wasn’t time to mourn things that were lost. No time to ponder things that are over. There was just time to do the Sunday chores and to treat this day, this day like any ordinary day.