The date your body remembers

You knew before you checked your phone. The day was heavy before anything in it happened. A death. The day a marriage ended. The morning someone said one word in a small room and everything shifted. Your body keeps that date better than any calendar. It's back, the way it'll be back next year.

It works like an old knee that aches before the rain. Nothing's gone wrong with you today. Something is exactly on time. The heaviness isn't a report card on your progress. It's proof that something mattered. You can't argue this date down, so skip the argument. Meet it ready instead of cheerful.

The cigarette will offer to help you skip today. Nobody skips a date. It comes around again either way. Instead, cancel one thing today that can wait, and put something kind where it was. A long walk. A meal you love. The one person who needs no explaining. Pick it now, before an empty evening picks for you.

Tell God before the day gets going. You know what today is. Walk it with me. Then lower the bar all the way to the floor. The whole goal today is getting to bedtime. There's no finishing this date. You only cross it, and this year you cross it free.