I was in bed last night with two small children. That’s right. Both of them. So not much for sleep for any of us. I’m in bed…not sleeping…and trying to figure out the significance of May 3rd.
Somebody’s birthday? No.
An appointment? I don’t think so.
Anniversary? Due date? Library books? No, no and no.
It came to me today when I was driving. May 3rd. The last day that Stephen punched a clock. Two years ago. When I was talking to DHS folks, the newspaper and, later, the life insurance agent…When was the last time he worked? May 3rd.
The clock is ticking into the two year mark. Just so I know.