Long Days, Short Years, Stiff Drinks

I know what you're thinking.  Thank goodness!  It's about time that girl got herself in therapy.  She sure as hell needs it. But alas, you are wrong. Per usual, I'm self therapizing, but this time, it's in a super healthy and wonderful way. On Saturday I leave for a much awaited, excessively needed, and very exciting week long solo trip to Mexico for rest, relaxation, reflection, and healing.  Twice daily yoga, spa treatments, the beach. In short, my personal heaven. I originally had this trip booked for September 19.  That didn't work out.  So I rebooked for post holidays when I anticipated being more able to reflect, more willing to truly enjoy myself, more capable of having a quiet mind, and more ready to receive all of the healing benefits of salt, sweat, and sun. I'm ready, friends.  I.  Am.  Ready. I haven't felt this optimistic in quite some time.  Since before you know what. I catch glimpses of this optimism in my daily practice s

Today is a special day.  And an especially hard day.   Harder than I anticipated, but how could I know?   It is the next of many firsts.   First Thanksgiving, on which we spread some of his remains into Lake Houston and cried and laughed as the wind spread them back on the boys and they delighted in being dirty.   First Christmas, when I returned to the last place I’d been before my life changed forever, to a spot where we swung from the bridge above and smiled at the simplicity of watching cousins make mud pies.   First New Year’s Day, watching football and slurping my husband’s homemade pho, a tradition that he enjoyed with us the last few years since relocating to Houston.   And now the first birthday, his, without him.  He would have been 67.  I hate that he didn’t make it.   I filled my day with appointments and tasks, hoping to avoid a downpour, hoping to hide from the inevitable, hoping to keep my hopes up, my head high, and my heart light.  But I couldn’t