six children and I,
under sky of dark beckoning.
We talk of hopes, of story, of game,
we let dreams fall down with the rain and
each drop, dry land touched by magic,
turning seemingly eternal brown to green and
children laugh and wonder if we skipped winter and
went straight to spring.
Home's warmth and scents welcome us,
fire glowing and fresh bread waiting,
wet clothes strewn and dry clothes on
or not and
and tea and toys and.
Sometimes I'm so wrapped up.
In this or that or what he said or she thinks or
this happening or that or can I believe this or.
So wrapped up and these moments,
these simple, perfect moments are
lost. Today we walked and rain fell.
Today the littlest beauty danced around naked
over and over
and wrapped herself in afghan and snuggled
in my arms.
Today my twins needed to be heard,
their stories and plans,
their unwavering desire for fairness, their frustrations.
Today we ate homemade bread covered in butter and
it crumbled hot, some in mouth and some into the carpet and
it was perfection and a mess, and it takes mindfulness to
often perfection is.
Today we walked. Tomorrow we will walk.
Daily we will walk. Same path. Everyday will hold
perfection and everyday will be messy and
everyday I will need to stop being wrapped up so
I can grab these moments.
It's these moments that make a life. And
I will live.