Our whole house smells like new bread at the moment, because Jeremy just finished baking. I'm sitting here with a glass of peppermint tea and a thick slice of dark bread slathered with butter. Bliss.
We took Connor briefly to the pool this morning, which was very crowded with children out of school, and I frittered away a couple of hours at a coffee shop writing poetry of questionable taste, but for the most part we spent the day quietly at home. I'm not normally one for melancholy, but I think we know too many people for whom Memorial Day is a day of rememberence and mourning for us to ever think of this as a cheerful sort of holiday. Goodness knows I came very close to being one of them, and while I'm very, very thankful that we were lucky enough to have this not be the case, my heart goes out to the families of those husbands and wives who are never coming home.
Thank you. All of you. We will never forget.
4 weeks ago