Saturday. Facing a morning of errands coming straight off of a double toddler hangover is the mother of all juxtapositions. Long overdue haircut, dragging my feet through the obligatory trip to the gym, low carb sundries at the market. The undeniable compulsion to check off each item in my brown paper planner. There is a cardboard quality I cannot ignore. This is my life actually flashing before my eyes and I’m stricken by the blandness of it. The unceasing quickness by which it all drives forward.
But they, son and daughter of my daughter. These upturned faces, so unconcerned with the state of crumbs on the carpet or accountability regarding when the linens were last laundered, wonder a never-ending litany of more pressing things. They are trying to understand smashed bits of red strawberries on their tongues, whether or not the stegosaurus can come to the third birthday party, and the intricacies of how metal feels to their fingertips. All of this is beautiful to them and it shines from their eyes. They woke me this morning with soft touches to my face, already sensing that mornings are hard for some, but unable to curb their inexorable need for the next adventure. May we all hold an echo of that today.