Sometimes, I lay in bed early in the morning and think… what day is it? I don’t even know. Unless I have a scheduled appointment, it’s just that… another day.

All my days are different, but they feel the same. It’s not because I lack of things to do around the house or errands to run. But it’s still just another day.

I want to tell Steve how my day was… what I got done, share my frustrations, ask him his opinion on where I should plant our mums, tell him that when I started the lawnmower some smoke came out of the carburetor, ask what that means. 

I know he hears me and he’s saying “Honey, whatever you want.” And the smoke could be this or that – “I’ll take a look at it,” he’d say. 

But he can’t say that to me now. I have to answer myself. Like many of us, I feel isolated and alone. It’s not that I had a spectacular day, an awesome day, an unusual day… but no one to share the little snippets in our mundane lives that we normally would be sharing… laughing about, chatting, making fun of each other, teasing, recalling the story of something stupid when we were with friends. 

While I still have our friends, I don’t have Steve to share in those moments. It’s just me telling them and  then it doesn’t seem so interesting. Just another day.

Some things that he used to do, or things that we used to do together, still need to be done on a routine basis. Just another day.

Sometimes I feel like a zombie, going through the motions. Just another day.

Sometimes I hate to plan ahead to do a project around the house on a certain day, because I might not feel like doing it on just that day. But it’ll all get done eventually. I have a list… the list, which I reference every time a new task or project comes up. Just put it on the list, for another day. 

So I’m finding my “just another day” allows me to take on every day. not just only on that day. 

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