A lot of good things came about today. I mean, this Sunday was bursting at the seams. Adding to the fun, is the fact that I’m wracking up some new anniversaries this year. Good ones. Kind ones.
And one of them was today.
We measure our lives. It started when our moms put us in 0-3 months onesies at birth and, well, thankfully, we no longer wear clothes with our age written across the tags, respectively. But we still mark the passing of time. Birthdays and such help. So does sewing up a bear-cow pillow creature and giving it to your boyfriend because he started becoming your boyfriend a year ago today.
Like I said, new anniversaries.
It happens, guys. The ashes scatter. Get planted right alongside the seeds and next thing you know, there’s a garden. You touch it gingerly, reverently, the way you’d touch the falling snow. You can only hold it so long before it’s gone. The tighter you squeeze, the faster it disappears. So you learn to not grip tightly; you learn to live in the moment. You can’t see the future, but you never could anyway.
He says things so nonchalantly. Beautiful things. Weighty things. Throws out pebbles and I catch a boulder.
“How do you clean these pillows you made me?” he asks, “Because I want to keep them forever.”
Just like that.
That’s the kind of word that can fill up a heart and break a heart.
But, I agree. I want him to keep the pillows, too.
Want him to keep them forever.
Same with the bear-cow creature.