thirty.

it was:

a messy bun and his t-shirt and ballet pink roses from my very first friend. sleepy eyes and the tenderness of managing milk — real and raw new motherhood. baked french toast and a family nap. bub's two week check up and a whole pound gained. a drive north for a snowscape and sandwiches wrapped in brown paper. love notes from dear ones afar. my husband in the kitchen, baking a chocolate cake. our son, two weeks old, cooing like a dove. happy. my happiest.

i just wanted to spend it holding the ones i love the most. it felt so good to be alive, to greet a new decade, to see "mama" written out, to be theirs.