In recent days I’ve been carrying my At-A-Glance planner with me like a security blanket. I take it to the living room couch, where I relax after work, and upstairs to my bedroom, where I read before konking out. I’ve realized I want to be able to flip through the pages at any anxious moment and remember how many weeks until Zoe goes back to college (three), until Jack starts back to high school (seven), until Mark has his next Spanish fluency test (four), until my last day at work (six), until I’ll be heading to DC for more training (eleven), until … we hit the road for Tijuana (twelve or thirteen).
If I don’t have this reminder that there are seven-day weeks ahead — adding up to another month, another two months, three — maybe I’ll lose track of our plans for leaving our longtime home for a life I can hardly imagine. I’ve even kept some crossed-off to-do lists on yellow stickies in the front of the planner as a reality check: Yes, we have spent weeks and months already on the many steps it takes to unravel one life and start on another.
One day at a time, my planner says. Seize the day!