January 11

Today is my 44th birthday. 

I won't say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, per se, but I definitely felt out of sorts from the time I awoke from my slumber. I'm not entirely sure why, but maybe it was because the boys are home from school with COVID and very bored (which in turn makes them excessively loud and rambunctious). Or maybe 'twas because I'm still reeling from the crazy trip back east. Or maybe because 44 is kinda-sorta (definitely) the mid-40s and I'm not sure how I feel about turning 50 in just six years. Or maybe because I know that in one short month, we'll be memorializing the 10th anniversary of Logan's death and I just can't wrap my brain around the truth that I haven't looked into those beautiful blue eyes for ten. Whole. Years. I guess, in looking over all of those things, I had a few reasons to feel overwhelmed. And maybe even a little sad. So that's how it was.

Anyway, I didn't do much today. I ate the little strawberry cupcake that my friend Carol brought over yesterday and I drank the coffee and ate a chocolate chip cookie that Tina dropped off this morning. And I admired the bouquet of flowers that Adam arranged for me and the unicorn-dappled balloon that he left by the kitchen table. And I cried for a while in my closet while I talked with God about things I won't talk about here. And then I went off by myself to shop for nothing in particular, and returned with some yarn (because duh) and did a little crocheting on the beginnings of a cute blue chevron blanket I started yesterday. And then this evening we had takeout from CPK and presents and cake. 

In hindsight, it was a nice enough day, I suppose, and I know that I am blessed with my wonderful family. But for one reason or another or for lots of reasons combined, it was also a hard day. And I am thankful that I can share that truth with all of you, because the ability to be truthful and vulnerable without shame... that's a blessing, too, even if it's not one that anyone really wants.