I was lucky that I’d scheduled my birthday party for yesterday. There’s no way I could have known that yesterday would be one of my bad days. I have days when I can face the unfaceable with a surprising amount of calm. Yesterday, for no predictable reason, was not one of them.
Since nothing and no one can fix it, there’s really not much to stop the downward spiral of a bad day, although Lord knows I try. Every day that doesn’t end in a “the tigers have found me and I do not care” moment I consider a huge personal victory, one I hold tight to me with nothing but my straining fingernails.
Denial has been my saving grace, but since it’s not a quality I ever practiced or aspired to, there are often cracks. So yeah. That was yesterday.
But with characteristic luck, yesterday was my birthday party. Yesterday was Aurora, who can’t help showing her secret idenity as an angel at times. Yesterday there was wigs and little Bunny Brothers and shiny presents and wine and twilight and the undefinable “It” and too few seats so we all had to snuggle.
Yesterday was nearly perfect.
It’s not a recipe I can pull out of my pocket anytime I need it, but it gave me hope that maybe if I can be ok for one night, then maybe I can define and distill that magic, and scrape together enough for two, enough to fix this. Or at least that happiness can run concurrent with misery.