Earlier this week we spent part of an afternoon flying kites in the side yard. The boys had post-school root beer floats on the treehouse platform, read joke books aloud from the hammock, shot nerf darts at one another, while I flipped through the pages of a magazine that had come in the mail. We took a walk with Andy when he got home, grabbed dinner on a local patio. I felt acutely aware of how gently time seemed to be passing, savored the sweet mercy of a free evening and few good things lining up. Being their mom is mostly a state of gratitude informed by intimacy with loss. They are very loud and often dirty, and I am so lucky.
1 comment:
You count your blessings so eloquently....
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