It's Affair Season. Well, the most strongly affecting season; there was enough infidelity to fill the whole calendar. But it's the Season of the End for me. At four (!) years out, I am generally good--balanced and much happier than I've ever been.
But it creeps in, you know? I hadn't given date or time of year much thought, except to note that our next (last?) court date is also the anniversary of something else negative in our lives "together." (I now know there was never an "us," or "together.")
I was surprised by general weepiness and physical malaise yesterday and this morning. PMS? Probably. But then I saw the calendar. Four years yesterday was the Terminal D-Day, the one that broke me, took all hope (never mind that hope was misguided; I am grateful I can experience it even when things appear hopeless... Well, except when I can't, any longer.)
No real point to this, I guess. It just strikes me as interesting that our subconscious and bodies remember even if we forget to look at the calendar. I wonder if April 23 will one day just be another day, one that doesn't get even an, "0h, yeah--that explains why I fee this way!" I suppose it will.. Might even be getting close.