I was wondering why I had such a spike in traffic today. I’m on the Lost and Found. You’re probably wondering why the hell I’m woodleling around, blogging about produce and members of the family Leporidae with a Date-with-a-capital-D looming.
I’ll be honest. In a rather surprising display of well-adjustedness, while I have not forgotten that April 23 was supposed to be Lennox and Zoë’s due date (and then later, probably close to the date they would have come home from the NICU) that date has failed to hold a tremendous amount of significance for me one year on. After all, they have their shared birthday and then they each have their own days. The reality dates have overpowered the hypothetical. It is a small blessing. December and January have become a string of painful dates for us, so I feel like I’ve earned a relatively uncomplicated spring. I would venture to say that rarely an hour goes by that I don’t actively think of them. I’ve just managed to let go of one instance of what should have been and happily, I’m able to enjoy the site of fresh vegetables and the discovery of wildlife in my suburban backyard.
That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the warm thoughts and the remembrances. Those are always appreciated. I’ve said it before, so pardon the repetition: It brings us a great measure of peace knowing that others hold Zoë and Lennox in their hearts and memories.
My newest daily mantra has become “Moving on does not mean forgetting.”