These are the days when waking up before the toddler is an effort in futility. So with the first crack of early dawn, he finds me just where he wants me. He slips into the warmth of our nest bed, his arms wrap round me, his ear on my heart.
This, I know, is the way to start these days.
These are the days of long hot showers, taking the chill from the skin. The heat’s turned off in our building now, but the warmth of spring comes slowly.
These are the days when homeschooling feels like the worst and best thing I’ve ever done.
These are the days of double dates with former students. When did they get all grown up and married with big fancy jobs?
These are the days of routine, every day has its plan. The predictability soothes our souls.
And yet these are the days when change is lumbering, looming closer. Every time I look to the horizon and see it there, I breathe, just breathe.
These are the days of spring winds, when sandstorms whip round our home up here in the stratosphere. There’s grit in the nooks of life.
These are the days when my kid swipes her own subway card, and I marvel at the confidence blooming in her.
These are the days I find myself wide-eyed at the fruit market. Blueberries and avocados? Oh, China, how you have changed. The me of nine years ago would not believe.
These are the days when blossom scent drizzles the air, a patchwork of color dolloped across the concrete jungle.
These are the days of strewn Lego, of artwork masterpieces papering the fridge. These are the days of wondering how a mountain of dirt fits into the pockets of boys.
These are the days of pouring out the story, of last minute emails for visions grown real, because perhaps what I need is what others need too. To retreat and renew, to release and be free.
These are the days when my own writing happens in fits and starts, jumbled daily in a private journal, these are my treasures, the working of him in me. And oh, how I'd like to sit and write and write. But I have a child smooshing my cheeks right now, and, yes, that’s good too. What’s there to write if you miss the moments?
This is my life these days in snippets and bits.