Today I wore a sunny mustard yellow dress. I got ready slowly in the morning. I took time to dry and curl my hair with care while Rosemary napped a few feet from me in her swing near the gauzy white translucent curtains in our bedroom. I put on the crystal earrings that John bought me last summer in Helen. I listen to the same three love songs over and over again on repeat still in a romantic and happy daze from the anniversary evening before. It felt refreshing and comforting to find myself in this ritual that has been absent from many of my days in the past few months. I went through the day feeling poised and utterly feminine and somehow historical. My buttons clasped and unclasped countless times through the day as I nursed Rose cradled in my arms. In the evening I rushed around tidying up the simple decorations from last nights anniversary celebration. As I walked up the stairs to our bedroom carrying the wooden candle holders my grandfather made and the pale pink tapers I felt grounded in that mundane task. I was barefoot and my mustard dress swung from side to side as I scaled each step. As the night drew on and a change of attire was fitting I unbuttoned the dress and it fell to the floor with a swoosh as the heavy weight of the fabric dropped. Today I wore a sunny mustard yellow dress.