Where it's brightest

Little sweetheart, this morning just before I woke, I had the strangest dream. You and I were at some house, I don’t know where, I didn’t recognize it. I was reaching for something. We were out by the garage, and somehow a small container of blue paint tipped over above my head at the farthest remove of my reach and dripped down over part of my face and my hand, my right hand, the one I was reaching with, and through my fingers. I was annoyed but you thought it looked rather amazing and wanted to take a picture. I had my sunglasses on and I took them off and shook some of the still dripping paint from them. You liked that even more. There was a spot - like tan lines - where my shades had been and where the paint, the blue paint, had spilled over my eyes and the right side of my face. You led me to a place where the sun was shining most brightly and started taking pictures. Close ups of my eyes and face and fingers, where the blur paint still dripped. With and without my shades, and a close up just of the shades with the paint falling off in droplets. It was starting to fade and dry when we heard my mom calling from a room in the house. She was trying to corral one of the kittens, I think because she needed to give her some medicine or something. We went inside and I woke up soon after. I didn’t immediately remember the dream but as I was making coffee I was trying to think what day today is. I remember that last Friday was Paddy’s Day, so add seven and subtract one. That made it March 23. March 23rd. Why did that date seem familiar, I wondered. Then it dawned on me. Today is my mom’s birthday. I lost her just 10 months before your own tragic passing. The dream makes more sense now, sort of. I hope you’ll bring me to the brightest spot again soon, my love. And take me into the house with you. Love you forever.