Wednesday is coming and with it comes sadness and heaviness and a sense that I will need to say something -- to write something -- and that I should know what that something is by now. But to figure that something out, I would need to be thinking about it, about the sadness and the heaviness, instead of pretending that Wednesday is not coming.
Pretending it doesn't mean as much as it does, this weirdly arbitrary-when-you-think-about-it block of 365 days plus one, for leap day, which makes it feel even stranger, like I should be dreading Tuesday but the Gregorian calendar is dictating that no, thou shalt be sad on Wednesday.
Pretending that I will not be spending it visiting his grave and comforting my mother and basically powering through the day (C'MON THURSDAY!) as quickly as possible so it doesn't crush me like a gnat and I'm not making any sense here, today, on the Friday before, which doesn't give me much hope for coming up with the right words on Wednesday.
Probably not. That's okay. Me neither.
Here's a video of Ike begging for ice cream while Noah asks for permission to watch Angry Birds videos on "YouToo," (which we rarely let him do anymore after realizing what YouTube considers to be a "related video" to Angry Bird cut scenes), and Ezra was there too but he's busy eating ice cream and anyway, it was a nice dinner together outside in the warm weather and Ike's little mouth makes me smile. A lot.
That feels right for today, I think.