In A Day's Time

I’ve always had a weird knack for dates. Number patterns stick in my head and I can’t get them out no matter how hard I try. I first realized this in middle school when I had to memorize dates for history class. The numbers stuck, and in them I captured the significance of whatever they represented with astonishing ease. Since then I’ve noticed that dates become a kind of road map of my life. They stand like markers of where I’ve been and where I’m going.

For instance, I know that I graduated on June 26, 2011 and that my senior prom was on the 6^th of that same month and year. I know that I got my first dog on January 15, 2007 and I know her birthday is also October 6^th. I could tell you that my first day of college was August 19^th 2011 and that August 20^th 2011 my aunt got married. I’ve already noted that my graduation will be held on May 16^th 2015 and I know that this coming fall I will return to school on August 16^th. I know my parents wedding anniversary is November 1^st, 8 days before my mom’s birthday, this year she will be 51, and exactly 54 days after my dad’s birthday, turning 54 this year. I know I got my learners permit on November 24^th and my divers license nearly six months later on May 25^th. I know the meaning behind the 11^th of every month as well as the 19^th of December. I can recall that I was baptized (for the second time) on May 5^th 2013 and that the Red Sox won the World Series on October 30^th 2013.

I’ve always relied on dates and their meaning for the safety they provide. I feel in control when I know the day in which a major event has occurred, and I boast in my ability to recall moments based on the number on the calendar. It wasn’t until the day I realized a certain date had slipped by, unnoticed, that I felt a sudden loss of control.

I never anticipated it, I was sure that on that day I’d be haunted by the past and that first thing in the morning I’d come to the realization that it was, in fact, April 6^th. But it wasn’t until 1:20am on (technically, although you’d have never said so yourself) the 8^th of April that I realized it. And it wasn’t seeing the number, two more than 6, that triggered the memory. Instead I was made aware in a much more obvious way, and because of that, I realized my total inability to stabilize the situation. How could I let a day that I had anticipated for months slip by under the radar? How could such an important day lose all of its meaning? I looked at the calendar on that day, I did. I saw it, 4/6/14, and it didn’t register like all of the other dates do. And I’m not sure, but I think that might be the hardest part. They all tell me it’s good, that I’m going forward, and that this is what progress feels like. But it also looks a whole lot like forgetting, and that is something I never thought I’d let myself do.

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