- Elisa Järnefelt
Our daughter's birthday, Mother's Day, Father's Day, and the anniversary of the day my husband and I met all take place in the time frame of a month and a half. We mark the birth of our child, my birth as a mother, my husband's birth as a father and the birth of our relationship. Each of those days reminds us of the different ways we have built our family. Except often we forget to celebrate that last one: the June day 10 years ago when we first met in Boston.
As a result of pandemic isolation and remote work this past year, my husband and I have spent almost every day at home together. In some ways, this experience has brought us closer. But it has also become more difficult to find time and space that is not defined either by parenthood or work. These two roles easily fill the rooms, and it's sometimes hard to remember that we have identities beyond them.
So, this Father's Day, I will try to remember to call my husband by his name, rather than just "Dad," when I speak to him. And this year, we will remember to celebrate that other day in June when we met. Maybe we will even dance across the living room floor after the house has quieted down. Because without that day, the rest of them never would have happened.