It sits there on my calendar. Innocent and unknowing. "Trip to BOS/NYC". And it fires a pang in my chest.
It's a vestige of only a few short weeks ago - a planned trip to the East Coast for work but a stunning reminder of how different the world is today.
Most of all, it's a reminder of the life I was supposed to be living. Filled with logistical Tetris with my husband's schedule, incessant reminders for the kids like "pajama day" or "bring $3.50 to school" and daily to-dos.
There is a regular Thursday ping to remind our kindergartener to take her library books to school. Usually a weekly frantic search through the house to find the said tome, I would now welcome the simple irritation.
No matter how much I've tried to scrub our calendar free of the past, there are lingering reminders of the life we were to live.
And it drills into the dull grief to make it raw again.
We're not done by a long shot. The long-anticipated family vacation. Summer camps and summer trips. Lazy bbqs and Little League. As the season changes our calendars are there to remind us of what was supposed to be.
And yet. There is also freedom from the shackles of our schedules. Beautiful long stretches of uninterrupted time. Filled not with gymnastics or soccer but a long dinner eaten at the dinner table. There is time to not only start a project but to finish it. There is simplicity where previously there were only schedules.
So yes, I delete the trip from my calendar and from my mind, sad for the visit that will not be. But I also look ahead to what adventures we'll be going on next week, if only from our home.