you walked under this tree, spoke to a moon for me

as much as i try to stay awake i fall asleep on the couch and am sent upstairs to bed so that ernie can have the couch and tv and long blanket and cherry coke to himself. if i sit down for more than a moment and even relax one tiny muscle i'm falling asleep and it's over.

jude has discovered that tummy sleeping feels better than back sleeping and no matter how hard i try to keep him on his back he rolls over and crunches up and sleeps for long hours at a time.

henry has new shoes that he can put on by himself. he puts them on the wrong feet and knows to switch them around.





this morning i watched the two of them laughing about cookies. henry was swinging in between two chairs. jude was in his highchair, toes on the table, chocolate covered. their hair sticking up to meet sunlight, their mouths pulled up with a laugh and a song, always a song. henry never quits his singing.

and i stopped and saw them there with that blue tunneling of vision that makes you really see something for what it is. i saw that moment, that millisecond of time and remembered that i will never see it again, it's over and gone and we're doing something else. even seconds later, it's not the same. the sun is dimmer, the smiling is something else, the hair, the chairs, the swinging, the cookies, the toes are all different.

amazing, this "swirl in the air where your head was once, here." it's gone with the glitter of it in a flash. and it wouldn't be the same if we noticed it all of the time, noticed the milliseconds of moments. they only matter when you've missed millions and billions of them already.



if you need a pick-me-up come on over and i will take my scissors to the back corner of our yard and clip some japanese quince for you to take home to your kitchen table.