yesterday

Yesterday I slept in, and dreamed about being married. I woke, cleaned the kitchen and made coffee, listened to Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me (my favorite weekend NPR installation.) It was warm, and Nyssa sunbathed on the picnic table in the yard. I joined her outside, and talked to my landlords about the weather, their aging lab, the plants that the late tenent of my unit planted, the plethora of funerals and viewings they have attended this month, the death of a sister, my dog's strange sun-worshiping habits, coats. I got my oil changed at a shady garage in another town, for $20. While waiting, I walked Nyssa over to Petsmart to look at the puppies and cats up for adoption. We saw a boxer puppy the size of a neckpillow and were barked at by a neurotic scottie dog. Nyssa was hissed at by an overweight tabby surrendered by unwell owners, themselves surrendered to a nursing home. On the walk back to the shady garage, I bought cheap closeout bookshelves. We drove to the dog park and Nyssa sat in the sun watching the other dogs play instead of running around herself. We left, went by the grocery store for milk and a fly swatter. I remembered to buy brown sugar. At home, I organized the piles of books and papers and mail that had accumulated and turned the living room back into a livable space. I dusted. Peter and I went to pick up a free ice-cream cake from Dairy Queen. Then we went to Borders to look for an appropriate poem to be read at the wedding.

Yesterday was the first day in months that my stomach hasn't been tied up in knots, my blood pressure hasn't been pounding in my head, my body hasn't been tense with endless lists scrolling behind my eyes, that I havn't spent on the phone with my mother negotiating details and schedules, that I havn't had to dope myself up on caffine and comfort food to get through. It was a day like days are supposed to be. It was a day to get a glimpse of hope, before this last desperate sprint through chaos.

Today, I woke up and realized that in two weeks I will wake up married. In two weeks, I will start having more days like yesterday. In two weeks there will be nothing to plan, no reason to be on the phone 3 hours a day, no pages of lists and paranoia of things forgotten. The balance will tip towards sunlight, equinox will pass, summer will be on her merry way, Peter and I will begin on ours.