If I keep back-dating these posts, I'll very soon reach the "what's the point?" point.
But I have enough of a stubborn streak (no, wait. I think it's pride) that I won't give up my latest "post-every-day-for-a-year" plan that easily.
The day was run-of-the-mill middle-age, middle-class routine: work, picking up the girls at school, dropping off someone else's kid who missed the bus to daycare, a trip to the library, a quick workout at the gym, home to make dinner, bedtime for the kids, a quick trip to the store to look (in vain) for just the right shade of new curtains, back home for a half hour of Friends viewing with D, collapse into bed before writing.
But the long list of what-I-did's doesn't tell the full story; the dark silver and shadow of the oak trees that grow next to the gym parking lot, the sweet matter-of-fact pre-grownup conversations between the kids in the backseat, or the trademark teasing banter at the dinner table, the light of the moon trying to pry its way through the temporary curtains and reach the bed. That's what it doesn't tell...
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