Today was a milestone.
Well, let me rephrase that. Today I did something that I have always done and always taken for granted–something that “normal” people do every day. Something simple. But to me, today, it felt monumental.
Today I left my house alone.
I got out of bed. I got dressed and brushed my teeth and hair. I went downstairs and tried to have a cup of coffee. (I say tried because I didn’t realize the coffee maker was still brewing when I dispensed my coffee, so what ended up in my cup was more like bitter sludge than actual coffee, and then I had such a bad taste in my mouth that I wasn’t going to try for another cup out of the pot.) Then, I put on my flip flops, grabbed my keys and backpack, and walked out the door.
I got in my car, alone, and started driving to work.
It only took me until I got to the corner of our street to realize how this morning was so “normal” and at the same time it felt so weird.
Since July 5, I had not gone anywhere by myself. Since I hadn’t been cleared to drive until my six week follow-up appointment yesterday, someone had to take me everywhere. Even yesterday, when I went into the office, Scott went with me.
Today, that changed. And while leaving home alone might seem like something super trivial to most people, for me today it was a
big huge deal.
This is my life since losing Alexander. This is the reality that I live in. It is a reality in which every little thing is colored by grief. It is a reality in which doing something as simple as leaving the safety and comfort of my house alone is a monumental milestone.
It feels weird to celebrate normal things, but as I turned the corner off my street, I felt like this milestone deserved celebrating. So, celebrate I did–in the most normal way I could imagine. I stopped by Dunkin Donuts on my way to work for a medium coffee with cream and splenda.
Because sometimes living in this new normal deserves a little taste of my old normal.