It is a strange thing to contemplate the best day of 2017.
I can tell you the worst day, the one that was so horrible that it has cast a dark, gray fog on anything else this year. I can narrow it down to the exact moment, as my husband pulled over to the side of the road because I was screaming that I needed to get out of the car and I tumbled out of the door and onto the ground, pounding it with my fists, wailing, "No, no, NO!" Until that moment, there was the sliver of hope that we were making our way to him, to my son, that maybe ... maybe ... please, please, oh please ... let him be OK. He was already gone.
And since that day, I find it hard to believe in anything good, in the best of anything.
I can't think happy thoughts. I can't call up fond memories. I can't make definitive plans beyond this moment. That's doesn't mean that I don't have happy thoughts ... or that I don't remember the sweet moments ... or that I don't plan anything. It merely means that I take each moment as it comes, knowing that nothing comes to stay. I cherish anytime that true joy washes over me. I honor the tears. I tolerate the mental confusion that comes with grief. I wake up and move through the day, sometimes well, sometimes stumbling through. That's all Ican do.
This morning I woke up and I thought about this prompt. What is the best day of 2017? Part of me wants to say today is because that is all I have. Today. Oh, but I wish I could go back to any other day before August 17th. All of those days have to be better because Noah was still here on this earth, filling it with his joy and his positive energy.
But today is all I've got.
This morning, the sunlight streamed in through the windows. I love the morning light, whether bright or dimmed by the clouds, the morning hours are my favorite. Full of potential and hope. Hmmm. I wrote about hope yesterday. And some months ago, I wrote that I want hope to return. Maybe it has, at least for this moment.