This is that day.
That one day.
That one day that can never just pass like the others pass.
Today is the day when my scar burns.

Any other day, It is easy to see the thousands of days of growing and listening I’ve done between 1982 and now.

But not this day.

This is that day.

That day my dad picked me up from school.
He never did that.
There could only be one reason he picked me up on that day.

He didn’t even wait. He held my hand as we crossed Allenwood Drive and spoke in the most gentle way he has ever spoken to me.

“Your mom died today.”

And I said, “OK.”
And then October 6, 1982 became that day.

The day that will never pass quietly.
The day I just allow myself to feel it.
To feel it as though thousands of days have not passed since that day.

Like I’m still in that crosswalk.
On Allenwood Drive.
On October 6, 1982.

That day.