I wish I could get into Halloween. I wish I could love it like some people do. Priscilla loves it. Michelle loves it. The only reason I ever got dressed up was either because as a kid it would get me loads of candy or as a college student it seemed to be required at the party.
But then again the only holidays I take any pleasure in are Thanksgiving and my birthday. Bet you didn't know my birthday was a holiday, did you? It's my holiday, and in my book your birthday is your holiday.
Today was Shenna's birthday.
As far as personal holidays go she would have definitely chosen a regular old day. I hate that. I want Shenna to have a birthday the size of Texas with fireworks that make the inauguration look like child's play. She deserves it, not any more than you or me mind you, but she deserves it just as much.
She walked in looking good. Smiling, laughing, joking. A certain gleam in her eye, a pep to her step, and within a couple of hours life had given her a short series of gut jabs to which she became those great before and after beauty ads but only in reverse.
And it is so quick when it happens, like how fast the sun sets in Florida, light to dark. And you feel her darkness because you loved her light. Plus, damn it, it was her own holiday and you shot a bottle rocket.
So the only way I know to get from where that was today to right here, right now is to say we made it through it, nobody died, no bleeding, and tomorrow is a new chance. Not a holiday. And maybe some holidays just don't live up to the expectations we give them.
Plus Slater is here, in brown scrubs, eating barbecue and laughing at me right now.
Sweet, sweet gratitude.