Dates stick in my mind. I still remember birthdays of childhood friends I haven't seen in at least two decades. I remember strange little dates like the first time I kissed by first boyfriend, or I notice patterns (like I seem to fall in love with people who are born on the 8th of the month).
Today is the one-year anniversary of the kids and me getting the keys to The Little House that Could. A year ago, I nearly panicked at the immense amount of work that lay before me. Tonight, I sit in my cozy living room, with the beautiful woodwork, and I have a measure of peace. It is good.
So it feels incongruent - yet perhaps fitting - that yesterday would have been my wedding anniversary. Thirteen years ago, we got up in front of our friends, family and God to promise to treasure one another, till death do us part. And a sort of death did part us. Here I sit, still sometimes dazed from it all. Some days I have a measure of peace. Some days it is good.
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