Today is just a day filled with regular hours of caring and cleaning, placing meals on the tray and wiping them off again. Gathering the pieces that landed on the floor. Collecting tiny treasures of joy shared between them, watching the meters of silly and sweet sweep across counterclockwise to full. Moments of watching the sunlight cast vertical shadows across the floor covered in toys and old quilts. The kind where content softly lingers in the air. A day with long naps for babies and getting lost in a book, again. Building towers that they knock down with delight. Repeat. I watched her push up and stand and studied those wobbly delicious little legs.
I caught a glimpse of my future, when that little boy wanted to help with the packing. He sorted toys in the bins and stacked them on a pile of boxes. Cars and monsters spilled over the edge with every step, but he noticed that I noticed and he smiled in a way that I felt like he was grown and helping his mommy. It was his idea and his eyes sparkled. With his arms strong and the sleeves of his blue hoodie pushed up, all of a sudden he wasn’t three as he marched across the room, for the quickest moment that I didn’t miss.
One of the sweet days of motherhood that’s not extra heavy or hard or anything. The kind we all need.
A day that could easily get lost in the mix of weeks and years, because it seemed to be ordinary.
Except that it wasn’t at all.
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