Nov 20, 2012

Heading out ...

Our first round of holiday travel kicks off tomorrow. Pardon me, but how is it already Thanksgiving? Wasn't it just July?

I should be packing, or doing a final load of laundry, or working down that pesky list of soon to be last-minute tasks. Post-it note reminders are littering our house and beginning to join the occasional herd of dust bunnies sojourning across our floors.

But there's a newly minted one year old, sound asleep on top of me, and I'm having trouble working up any bit of motivation to move. Because now she's one: mobile, chattering, wide-eyed and once around the sun. I'm soaking in these still, quiet moments, all too aware of the swiftness with which they pass.

To be a memory-keeper. I'm urging myself toward it again.

Mar 2, 2012

A Gift

It's quiet, late, with rain left over from this afternoon's hail storm still seeping from the sky.

Baby sleeps, but only as long as my foot keeps bouncing. My love sleeps, two hours past the promise of "just ten minutes." I am grateful they find rest.

I've contemplated the writing of these few sentences for far too long. Words, beaten to death and back again, before they ever had a chance to float free. Afraid of where they may land; ashamed if they fall like lead balloons. How deeply I rub the grit of failure into the open pores of my skin.

But how could I worry these moments and memories will hang heavy? If these small piles of thoughts become but cairns, marking our way, would it not be enough and plenty?

So I begin. Again. Flinging them free and running for cover.