Monday, November 11, 2013

These ... are ... days

Rolling trash cans to the curb.

Out the door with no rush or yelling, even though we were late.

Piano. Jingle Bells.

A run for dog treats, Pirates Booty, pita chips and apple cider donuts.

Then to the Tractor Supply for fire starters. That group of old farmer men standing at the doorway, talking farmer men stuff.

We bustle past.

Into the car and on the way home. A cup of coffee with cinnamon. The kids eat donuts. We start school. Home Sweet Home burning on the mantel. Laundry spinning. Dishes to unload. A hum starts in my mouth.

Finding the song, I listen for the first time ever to the lyrics, and I want to cry.

Heart swells.

Erin bobs her head to the rhythm of the melody.

"...  that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you."

Thankful, for being part of the miracles I see in every hour.

Beautiful life.

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