deleting e-mails

It's warm and windy this morning. I look out the front door and smile to see Ella's cherry tree in full blossom and nestled underneath a little stone bird surrounded by the daffodils and budding tulips Ella and I planted on that warm day in December for Sully. I take a moment and sit on our front steps and look through a little book of photographs of him and our family. Sweet boy. I do tear up, but I do not weep as I trace my fingers over his tiny lips and remember how kissable they were.
I went through our overloaded e-mail inbox the other day. As I tried to clean it up I realized I couldn't get rid of anything about Sully. So, I have saved every e-mail, every word sent about Sully and our days with him. But then, I came to a newer e-mail, a friendly one about dinner with some friends of ours, and I was OK to delete it. For some reason, that felt really good. I recognized the moment as one where life was moving on, and it wasn't so frightening.

The work on the playground continues and it brings me great joy. I drive by probably two or three times a day and just sit and watch it all happen. Zane always emphatically calls out, "Sully's playground," and I laugh at how he shares with me the excitement over mounds of dirt and yellow machinery. This week we will watch concrete sidewalks and patios be poured, trees be planted, and possibly a fence erected. These are amazing things to me, amazing that a community has overwhelmingly supported us in this dream, amazing and humbling that so many would validate the life and the worth of my infant boy of a mere six days.