The big boys had a piano recital on Saturday, both of them playing solid performances of songs they've worked so hard to master. Afterward we enjoyed sunshine and patio sitting and a stroller walk.
Today we had red licorice for breakfast. I painted Hank's nails, purple and green, his request. And we all snuggled together to watch The Parent Trap while it rained, the very definition of time well spent.
I have learned, mostly, that holidays feel best when I do not take for granted what goes right. I try to overlook the harder, normal day, parts - the squabbles and the spills and the insensitivities - and instead acknowledge all the small mercies and sweet moments, scooping each into my heart.
These boys are the reason I breathe. They are also the reason I say bad words and drink bourbon.
But the miracle of their existence will never cease to amaze me.

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