The 8th

I'm up before everyone else like usual. I immediately head to the dryer to start folding the laundry and then I think of all the dirty dishes in the sink and then and then and then...I stop. I just sit on the couch. The light is lovely, not sunshiny at all but white gray and calming. Today is the 8th. One month ago I held my boy in my bed and mentally memorized everything about the morning. I remember how he felt in my arms, so small, so warm and bundled up. I remember how he smelled, how soft his skin was. I remember the light and the bird song and the calmness and the love. There is one bird that keeps repeating his song over and over this morning just outside the window. I tell him thank you. It's as if he's come to sing just to me and to tell me that Sully is well. Tell him I miss him, little bird. Tell him I miss him...