Dadda and I filled our window boxes today. We chose vibrant purples and sunshine yellows plus some brilliant froggy green vines. Plus, two whole boxes full of herbs, spices and other deliciousness. Despite the summer-like heat (90+ degrees) in St. Louis, it felt good to do this outdoor work. It felt like one more piece of closure.
Last summer the window boxes hung empty. We didn't have the heart to fill them, but also didn't have the heart to remove the hollow boxes. Like everything else in our house and lives, time stood still. We couldn't move forward. Couldn't stop looking back.
It's the small actions. The seemingly trivial activities that symbolize so much. Making the exterior of the house look appealing. Driving through McDonald's. Getting a glass of ice water first thing on a Saturday morning. The little movements that represented Life With Peanut. And now, these are reforming into Life With The Bean While Remembering Peanut.
Every day I see your brother looking over my shoulder with a giant smile. A burst of laughter. I know he sees you. I know you are telling him jokes and secrets. You are reassuring him that everything will be OK for him. He is safe and happy.
Every day I feel you telling me, "Momma, it's OK to laugh and smile. It's OK to watch The Backyardigans. It's OK to fill the window boxes again."
So, today we did just that. We filled the window boxes. All of them except one. The one outside your bedroom window. That one will remain empty. Because...well...it just seems right. Not everything moves forward.
Peanut, Momma loves you soooooooo much. On this night when we are expecting the SUPER MOON, I tell you this - I love you to the moon and back. And beyond the super moon!