this day was a year.

today was a year.  it must have been, because this morning feels like 11 months ago, at least.

i was up at 7:30 making an ice cream cake.  assembling, really.  i baked the cake part yesterday, but the freezer was full, and i decided it'd be better to assemble the cake this morning.  of course, if i had thought things through yesterday afternoon while we were sitting on the porch with cheese and crackers and friends and a guitar, i would have realized that i could have handled the freezer-space problem yesterday the same way i wound up handling it this morning.  but i didn't.  so there i was, in my pajamas, crushing oreo cookies with a rolling pin.  

by 830, i was dressed and my mom was in the kitchen with me, scrambling eggs.  dave was at home depot buying spray paint for the lawn.  and i was whipping frosting and softening ice cream and crushing cookies and assembling layers, and not-looking at the printed eulogy lying on the kitchen counter. 

and then my mom and i were out the door.  my mom had already done the dishes, and i had already been back inside three times for my sunglasses and a handkerchief and something else i can't remember right now.  dave stayed behind with the kids to move the kitchen table and spray paint the lawn, while i drove to a field with my mom and my dear friend rachel, to remember our friend josh who passed away in august, one week after his 38th birthday.  

eight boys were set to arrive at my house at 11 to celebrate bennett's birthday, and there i stood, in the bright white sunshine, in a circle of mostly-strangers, reading my friend's words aloud through tears, and wondering how i came to this place in my life where i'm remembering my friends.

there were readings.  there was a song.  we planted a tree.  and then there were 10 kids and 10 t-shirts (5 red, 5 black).  a football, spray-painted grass, 3 cheese pizzas, an olive pizza, gatorade, and a chocolate ice cream cake.  i was worried about injuries (there were none).  i was struck by the kindness of these children, my son's friends, and by their ease with each other.  i hoped that they would have each other for a good long time.

and it was only noon.

there was an african drumming birthday party in the afternoon.  there was a short nap when i couldn't stand upright any longer.  there was homework, and a 2nd grade research project about vermont (did you know that the state flower of vermont is the red clover, but that the flower is actually purple?).  there were bagels, and a friend returned from abroad, there was cub scouts, and fantasy football (lately, there's always fantasy football).  and then there was reading, and bedtime.  and this morning feels like 11 months ago, at least.  

because in the time that's passed since i stood in the kitchen in my pajamas waving the rolling pin, we have cooked and cleaned, and mourned and celebrated, and spray painted the lawn.  and we have loved and wondered and worried and hoped, and we have lived the minutiae of our lives.

like i said, this day has been a year.  don't you think?