An ordinary day

The sky this morning was the blue that September often brings. I woke up to the sound of my husband making breakfast for Shaggy Hair and With-a-Why. My day began as it usually does, snuggling with my youngest son after he eats his breakfast, with Shaggy Hair's piano music in the background. As soon as they'd all left for work and school, I took a hot shower to soothe my sinuses and sat down to answer some emails.

It was just an ordinary September day. I fed the cats, talked to a friend on the phone, and cleared some paperwork off my desk. I sat in my sunny living room and read a book while I ate breakfast. I drove to campus to teach my classes and attend a campus-wide event that I'd organized. I ate my lunch in my office — a veggie wrap and apple juice — while talking to a colleague about an upcoming conference. Late afternoon, I sat on the grassy lawn of our quad with a group of first year students, talking about books and ideas and ways to save the earth. As the shadows grew longer, I lingered in front of the library with some colleagues, talking about our students and our weekends while the sun warmed our faces.

My husband brought Chinese take-out home for supper. Broccoli with garlic sauce over rice is one of my favorite meals. Shaggy Hair talked about the Ultimate Frisbee team he's starting at his high school. With-a-Why showed me his newest drawing: a creature rising out of the sea. For the twentieth time, he reminded me that the book Brisingr will be coming out soon, and we need to buy it the very minute it hits the bookstores. He advised me to reread the other books in the series before this big event.

Boy in Black came home for a few hours to do Air Alert, some exercise program he and Shaggy do to increase their vertical leap. It's a strenuous program that involves lots of jumping up and down accompanied by dramatic complaints about how difficult it is. I talked to my friend Healer Plumber Guy about my headaches, and he reminded me to do reiki every morning. I called Beautiful Smart Wonderful Daughter to find out how her day had gone: she's been putting in nine-hour days in Big City Like No Other, and she sounded tired.

Today was a typical September day, filled with nothing extraordinary.

But I felt a little jolt, a moment of loss, every time I wrote the date or said the date aloud or saw a flagpole. And I felt grateful all over again for those very ordinary details of my life.