This morning was a hurried morning, as they usually are. Potty training isn’t making life any easier yet.
Malachi surprised all of us by sleeping well from midnight to 6, so he awoke confused and starvacious. Ezra announced he did not sleep enough, which was why he was sad and grumpy and unable to use his big-boy voice. There were Cheerios everywhere and Sunbutter on my sleeve and coffee splatter on Len’s work tie. In the midst of all this noise and hustle, the sun rises above the neighbor’s trees and beams directly in the eastern window, backlighting the newly-unfurled paperwhite so that it glows, transformed, a fierce beacon on a fragile stalk. Ezra and Len and I stare amazed for a moment before I grab my phone/camera; then Len grabs his and Ezra starts grabbing at our waists for us to lift him up to see. Malachi, strapped into his high chair, spends some time trying to owl his neck all the way around and then gives it up, content to eat and watch us watching. Where else, I ask you, would I find people so willing to let their lives be altered by such a brief moment of beauty? Who else would see this and drop everything to stand in its light, breathing more quietly while we wait for the sun to shift?
Anna I just love reading your posts. A gift you have and a gift I get to read.
Yes, always new, radiant, warming, from your yellow cow to now.