I can see how some parents might worship their children. Their beauty, their light, such perfect creatures, such mesmerizing copies of (the best parts of) ourselves. It keeps coming to me in waves that I'm losing my little partner in a month. I forget that gone are the lunch dates and little naps we'd sometimes sneak in before going to pick up the boys. We crossed the street to the toy store and the back of her hand... it is the softest thing I've ever touched. She took forever to decide on what she wanted that she could also actually afford with her seven dollars. (a coin purse and a tiny bejeweled journal with matching pen) (she is always buying little journals and notebooks) (she is just like me.)
Yesterday we had another showing. These showings are starting to get costly as I get to cleaning and then don't want anyone eating in the kitchen so we leave and end up at Subway because everyone is starving and we have to do something for an hour or so.
There's a huge blanket fort in my living room. My kids are happy/fed/bathed/clean. Today was the first day in a long time that I could literally do nothing but read and really relax and breathe.
(days sixty-three and sixty-four)