April the Second

April the second. Ever so slowly, I wake into this Sunday morning and lay still. Earlier April the second years slowly rise.

This is the day my former in-laws married nearly a century ago. I think of all the ways their union interfaced with my life when I met and married their son four decades ago.

Then, the sweet cat snuggled at my hip shifts position. I remember discovering him abandoned in my back yard in early April, 2009. Afterward, I gave this precious boy, whose tiny eyes had not yet opened this birth date, April the second.

My seven-year-old son, Keith, left this world on April the second, 1973. Time has softened that loss over the decades. It pleases me that I can smile today. I can see his happy, impish face on a summer afternoon beneath sunshine in the park. And I fill with deep gratitude for the short time we shared together.

I think of yesterday, outside with my camera, delighting in the beauty of the multitude of bright purple violets sprinkled all over my property. Yet, it is one flower alone that  possesses such beauty for a deep thankfulness to wash through my limbs. In spite of that, a multitude is what I have before me.

Subsequently, I rise, filled with the rich history of this day. The cat decides to nuzzle me lovingly as I put food in his dish. The dog rises from the couch, stretches, and yawns with a little squeak. I wish these sweet souls a good morning, then click on the dog’s leash. We slide the door open and step out into a bright sunny day.  There, a singular bird fills my psyche with her rich beautiful song, as does the magenta glow of the red bud tree unfolding into a new season. I greet this morning filled with the rich history of other days from my April the second book. And I wonder: what will this April the second bring? My heart is open.