March 4, 2002
March is tough for me. It's generally that period when winter begins to fade and mother nature starts anew. When the school years pressure of exams and tests bare down on you heavy. When Fashion Weeks end and we begin to feel the anxiety of not having that bathing suit body with summer quickly approaching. It's the month that pops up too damn early because February was so damn short. But March, yes March is a very tough month for me.
March 4, 2002, I lived in Wahiawa, Hawaii. A small town on the island of Oahu about 20 minutes from Waikiki Beach. At that time, I'd been a resident of the island for about 3 years and I loved it. Pictures could never do this place any justice. It was not only the beach but the serenity and simplicity of life. Where being barefoot was the norm and it rained at least once a day. Flowers grew here that couldn't survive anywhere else. Waves touched the sky and the breeze sang a song the moment they passed by. On that day, that very day in March, I became a mother.
It was on that day that I held my son, placed his cheek to my nose and suffocated myself with that brand new baby scent that every woman is drawn to whenever a newborn is placed in her arms. At 25 years old, on the morning of March 4, 2002 I gave birth to my first son, Jamie. I spent 27 minutes with him, before he passed away in my arms. He would've been 16 years old.
Yes, March is tough. March 4 is unbearable. Life is short. Count your blessings. Happy Birthday my love.