Perhaps I came to Sanibel with too many goals.

I brought all the calendars I’ve kept since 1995. To make a family history…to fill in the gaps in my memory, or reinforce it. I am hoping that when I next look at photos…first in albums, then in digital files, as we acquired technology…and our credit card records, I’ll have a decent capture of the lives we’ve lived. And it will be written down, so none of us will forget those 19 years, 3 months and 12 days. I’m up to January 2004 and I’ve spent several hours getting there, bathed in tender recall that is both painful and sweet.

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I thought I’d sleep more here, in this tiny haven. I have no responsibilities other than myself. But no.

So I drank coffee on the balcony as the sun rose, and watched tiny bugs struggle through two layers of protective screening surrounding me (note to self: buy large quantities of DEET). I read my devotionals — today’s themes were about trusting God, knowing God will give relief to the troubled (2 Thessalonians 1:7) and being still…and resting (Psalm 46:10).

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On Saturday, the day I was supposed to leave for Sanibel, there was also the Bike Rodeo – the event designed by my neighborhood’s recently revived Civic Association, in memory of Mark. It was to be held from 9am-11am.

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Three days ago (a Wednesday) in the early morning, as the trip to Sanibel approached, Steve – who takes blood thinners – commented how he was really stuffy, that the pollen must be really getting to him, somehow (he’s not allergic). And he blew his nose. Really hard.

Blood came out like a fountain.

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Good news and bad news seems to reign these days.

On the GOOD side: we are surviving tax season. It’s almost over.

I’m also getting some pretty funny…coincidences? Signs? (What would you call them???) lately…

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Oh how I LOVE this expression. This, my friends, is Mark. In all his glory.

How has it been a half year since I’ve touched him? Hugged him? Smelled him? Laughed…

(That’s actually a lie. I’m not much of a poet so I’ll spare us all by not trying.)

I just want to say this: Mark had some spectacular eyebrows. I noticed them right away. He was a big baby when he was born — about 8 1/2 lbs (his sister was bigger. I chalk their size up to my pregnancy cravings, which I can describe this way: Meat Lovers Pizza). Mark also had a head of very dark hair, with the cutest long sideburns (earning him, briefly, the nickname “Tiny Elvis”). All that dark hair eventually faded away/fell out, replaced by a lighter brown, but the dark eyebrows stuck around. I drew this picture in my journal when he was a few months old. He would arch them, without realizing it, and I thought it was adorable.

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