The calendar square for today is empty–no appointments, activities, or places to be. So it would seem that I could have a quiet day of writing and working. That was what I’d planned for today when contemplating the day from a week’s distance. I knew last night that my plans for today were going to require revision. The day was filled to overflowing with the sorts of emotional events which do not get written on the calendar. Many of them slopped over into today as a result of yesterday’s deluge. None of it is tragic or long-term, just the various emotional dramas that attend the process of growing up. But now I’m looking at all the other blank days on my calendar and thinking how grateful I am that they are blank, because I’m certain they won’t actually be empty.