August 11

It wasn't the best day ever. I didn't sleep well last night, had a headache more often than not, and couldn't get anyone (okay, hardly anyone) to respond to my text messages. (Which, for the record, annoys the h-e-double hockey sticks out of me.) It's also an 11th, which means my 40th birthday is creeping ever closer, but it's not just any 11th: it's August 11th, which is the six-monthaversary of Logan's passing. It's been exactly five and a half years. And in a few short weeks, he will officially have been gone for a longer duration of time than he walked the earth. So yeah. It was kind of a downer of a day and I felt the emotional weight.

But then Adam got home from work (late, because of course the train had mechanical issues and ran 90 minutes behind schedule), we had dinner, and this happened on the couch next to me:

I had a stomachache, so I'd sprawled out on my favorite cushion and crammed in my earbuds to try to minimize noise. Then a minute later, Adam came into the room cradling Abby in his arms. I couldn't really hear him --the earbuds are the lovely noise-canceling kind-- so I popped one out to have a listen. He was patting her head and talking to her like he did when she was a little one, but was doing it in this totally amusing voice. She tried to pretend she was annoyed, but could hardly keep from laughing. The little scene persisted for just a few minutes before she escaped and ran off, but the memory stayed with me.

And I'm still half-smiling over it now.