I had a fabulous Spring Break. The 20th came, and then it went. Three years of marking the death of my husband. I didn’t cry, I didn’t have a come-apart or even get a visit from Dr. Lecter. I smiled, I laughed, I laid on the beach and by the pool and ate seafood until I was full and drank so many bushwhackers and bama breezes I got a sugar high. I realized it was time for me, and it was. I bought myself a beautiful bracelet to remind myself that March 20th is no longer a day to be sad, but a day to shine and be my wonderfully goofy, silly, happy self.  I bought myself some lemon, lime and orange trees, and even threw in two Florida avocado trees for good measure. Adding some life and color to this place and hopefully some limes to squeeze in my Coronas while I’m at it !So anyway, on the 20th of this month, I realized that I’m still alive. And I’m planning on living it up. It would be a shame to do anything else, wouldn’t it? 

Hi ! I’m back from spring break, and hit the ground running with projects and chores and times with friends. I’ll be posting tomorrow or so, but until then I’ll leave you with my favorite bathroom art EVER … I just wish I’d had a screwdriver ; p

(In case you don’t recognize the photo, it’s Papa aka Ernest Hemingway)

The calendar and I are having one of those “it’s complicated” relationship moments.

I am way too excited for spring. For longer days, sunshine, boat rides.

And then I remember.

I can hardly wait to plant my garden come Good Friday and buy new hibiscus and plants for outside.

And then I remember.

I’ve begun my indoor spring cleaning ritual and I have plans for this and that and paint here and this do-da there and I’m looking at the organization calendar on my fridge to see what’s next.

And then I remember.

I’m buying outdoor stuff for my new patio and pressure washing the Kimabama, and I see an old license plate from his motorcycle.

And then I remember.

I’m going on my college spring break next week and am spending it on the Florida panhandle, one of my favorite places to be.

I remember that I am excited for the first day of spring.

And then I remember that the first day of spring is on March 20th.

3 years to the day that Gregory died.

And then I remember the hospital, the doctors, the faces of my friends and family, the pen the doctor handed me to sign his life away, and it’s like remembering a slow motion movie where you’re thinking oh, that poor helpless thing, must suck to be her.

And then I remember that it did. And it still does, at times.

And then I remember that I didn’t die. That I live.

I remember what it’s like to dip my toes in the Gulf of Mexico, smell the salt air and feel so very alive .

I remember what it’s like to feel like I’m home again, and to laugh with the old men at SandShakers and feel the brain freeze as I gulp down that first Bushwhacker of spring break.

I remember what it’s like to be happy.

And that’s a memory I’ve missed for far too long.

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