Saving Daylight

I hardly ever remember dreams anymore.     Sometimes little snippets, but never the full-story, start to finish sort of remembering.     So when I started waking up in the middle of the night from medium-bits of nightmares, I knew it was something to be noted. For your reading comfort, I will preface this by saying that we are all okay.    Everyone who may come up in this little venture is completely fine, heading back to normal, and this writing serves as a small way of putting it behind us. I’m learning that whenever I’m really struggling, I tend to turn to the comfort-joys of my past - a complete retreat to a former version of myself.    Sometimes it’s things that I have completely forgotten were joys.    Sometimes they’re simple, like listening to an 80s song I’d forgotten I loved, or watching a favorite episode from a favorite show.    A peanut-butter-jelly-potato-chip sandwich.    Other times, I unlock a vault o...

You were supposed to be born on September 3rd.  A conveniently sandwiched Saturday of Labor Day Weekend festivities.  I would've been more-than-ready for September 3rd.   When I say the words "September third," they are very marked.  If you're a fan of Gilmore Girls, you may connect it with the way that Lorelai says "June THIRD" - the date of hers and Luke's wedding that did not in fact happen on June the the-IRD.  "You wanna know what day I'm not getting married?  June THIRD."  "Do NOT save the date on June THIRD."   Spoiler Alert: though much delayed, their wedding indeed took place.   Spoiler Alert: Our family's plan didn't quite make it to September 3rd.   I wanted potato chips.  They say pregnancy cravings are irrationally detailed and they're correct.  Potato chips.  We hardly ever have potato chips in the house.  But that's just what I wanted on that specific day.  My long-stretch ...