I know the sound of the mail truck.
I know when there's sirens to bristle and make sure the ringer is on. I am a mother.
I know that thing that I thought would be the end of me. I stare oddly while stopped at the red light. Amazed that it's now far, far, far behind me. I will look at each of my kids someday and faintly remember. Thankful that good times always always outweigh the bad. And that the bad times were just a minor role,
a bit part
to the really really good.
In the grocery store, my cart is full and I'm almost done but not quite done and it's that not quite done that almost totally sends me over the edge. Like, I could have just sat down in front of the toilet paper and cried. Or simply walked away from my cart and out the door. But I didn't and so I just finished up like any regular day even though inside I was not okay.
Ivy closes her eyes with each bite of the soup I made from scratch. I sit on my hands to keep myself from leaving this moment and my chair to grab the camera. So I look at each face and beg to remember it all, each bit of this piece of time that seems to be everything that matters to me in this world right now around one wooden table. I try to memorize, the words I'll use when I retell it here. And I'll be okay if I don't, this event still happened even if it doesn't have a photo and if I don't ever tell a soul. I let my mind wander at the stakes
of keeping it all for me.
In the winter evenings I juice a grapefruit or two and put the glass in the freezer until the kids are asleep. I check on them, they are perfect and safely delivered through another day and now I can just be. And I drink my grapefruit slushy with a spoon and you know this is like what I look forward to all day. Especially today. The last minutes at the end, the mosey around the finish line.
Lately I try to remember what life was like before the Internet and I wish so hard we could go back to there.
-- linking up w/ just write