my baby boy in a bow tie on his very first easter. riding the hudson river ferry to visit papa at the office. snow on forsythia. how she knocked on my door to make pancakes, clean the kitchen, and hold francis while i showered (how held that made me feel). mornings in the white house that tasted like french press, sounded like seven babes, and felt like grace. the nuances of early motherhood. a water cup, filled and left by the chair i nurse in by a man who observes quietly and loves well. two dimples per elbow. fuzz kissing each rose petal of an ear. hands like stars. how the blossoms are blooming, and so are we.
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