Today looked like an ordinary Saturday.
I slept in. I ate Grape Nuts with Splenda. I showered and dressed in jeans and a Tshirt. I told the kids to clean their rooms. I started the laundry. I cleaned my bathroom. Charlie came over to help me organize some homeschool stuff. I cleaned up a bottle of shampoo that Madame Chaos spilled. I had leftover pizza for lunch. I loaded the dishwasher. I told the kids to clean their rooms. I cleaned up the pile of toilet paper that Madame Chaos spun til the roll was empty. I put some more laundry in. I welcomed my big girls back from YW Camp. I visited with my friends who returned our car from Boise. I had the neighbor kids over. I told the kids to clean their rooms. I made spaghetti for dinner and told the kids to clean their rooms. I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher while I talked with my husband. I told the kids to clean their rooms. Hubby and I took Necia to the dance and then went on a date to RoeAnn’s Drive-in. I came home to blog. I have plans to watch a movie with Charlie until it’s time to pick up the kids from the dance.
But it’s not an ordinary day for me. Today is the day that I outlive my mother, who was killed in a car accident 31 years ago at the age of 38 years, two months, and seven days. I’ve been thinking about this date for some time, trying to decide how to mark it, what it means for me to surpass the woman I have consciously and subconsciously modeled myself after. Should I do something she would have done? Should I individuate and do something she wouldn’t have done? In the end, I decide that the best thing to do would be to live.
So I did.