i'll remember this may, our first with a son, as a stretch of fog and foam-topped coffee, when friends came north to meet our boy and days felt holy. like rain, and how the half-second pause between drops sounds like prayer. like blossoms, and how they make me feel things. like morning coffee crowned with petals, and what it is to make things more beautiful than they have to be. like a baby boy who tugs his mother closer by the sash of her robe. like when a husband surprises his wife with a new dress that will someday take her back, back, back.
You look so pretty in that dress!ReplyDelete
What it means to make things more beautiful than they have to be.ReplyDelete
This, this, this.