To share a meal around a table at a restaurant, all eight of us, is to experience joy unlike anything I’ve known in years. Momma’s heart is swollen in the best of ways.
I took my dog for a walk today; she did not once pull on the leash and threaten to take me for a tumble. File under: things I notice when I make the time and space.
I can hear them downstairs, laughing and debating and making up for lost time. There is a rhythm between my husband and his first two boys, a rhythm that is difficult to describe but easy to spot.
The eldest was four years old when I met him, eight when I married his dad. He was thirteen years old when the baby was born and nineteen when he moved out. Today, he is twenty-two. Words cannot do my heart justice. I wasn’t sure we’d be here tonight, together under one roof, celebrating in this way. I’m grateful.
Amen and amen.
Our big boys are here, and the baby has not let go for a second. Good gracious. That was two long years but in many ways, we haven’t missed a beat. The world may be broken, but all is right in mine today.
A haircut for baby. A haircut for Momma. We get to see our big boys tomorrow, after nearly two years of texts and mostly missed FaceTime calls. It is a good weekend, indeed.
the kale is wilted
the Parmesan cheese is green
please get McDonald’s
– a haiku, formed out of a text from a husband who had every intention of preparing a delicious and nutritious dinner for his family last night