I wake early and with a sense of excitement, my blood singing in my ears.
What, what day is it? I can’t find myself. Is it Christmas? The first day of the holidays? My birthday?
I feverishly run through a list of dates in my head, searching for the puzzle piece.
Valentines Day, Thanksgiving, New Years Eve…
Then I remember, and my excitement fades away to nothing.
Today is Harry’s birthday.
Memories float to the surface of my mind. This day, repeated back through my life; of cake and candles, of parties and presents. Of his choppy blonde hair, of his obsession with tractors. His swing set in the garden. The love I saw in his eyes when he looked at me.
Of him, toddling around the house, creating wonderful chaos. Without him everything is so cold and echoing.
When will this pain heal? When will this hurt fade? Not yet – it’s still too fresh a wound.
But, one year, I want to be able to wake up on this day and only see the loveliest of lives… and not the hole he left behind.