D-Day was supposed to be the remembrance of the Allies landing on Normandy. For me, it has a whole 'nother meaning.
It would have been my 38th wedding anniversary to my ex husband. Am I ever thankful it wasn't. I'm sure he feels the same way although he has been unlucky in the marriage department ever since. Six times unlucky so far including ours.
It reminds me of my day of deliverance. Although the date of my actual divorce is December 3rd, my old anniversary date is the date of my choosing. Each year when it rolls around, I do a little jig (I am Irish by marriage, you know). Small feelings of regret on a failed marriage is steam rolled over by relief. The roller part of the machine needs to be ten times larger to equal the way I felt. No I'm not bitter. Just relieved that I'm not still in that marriage.
But today is the 7th. Yippee! Huzzah! It's my baby girl's birthday! She is 28. Traditionally, my husband would go into my kitchen grab my biggest canning pot and metal spoon, and go into her room or call her. He would then beat them as a wake up call singing his version of "Happy Birthday" to her. He hasn't missed a birthday in twenty-one years.
He won't miss this year either. Instead of a early morning cacophony it will be like a mid afternoon one. There is a three hour time difference between Arizona and here.
You've come a long way, Baby! With more memories in the making.