Our days go by so quickly. One minute we’re fighting off walking alarms clothed in warm fleecy pajamas, the next they’re snuggling with blankies and loving on tattered elephants. We sit, we play, we laugh and love. Our days are slow in the moments, fast in the hours.
I breathe, taking the long moments as they come.
Moments filled with toddler anguish, one year olds coloring off white couches with purple dry erase markers, snack bowls and emails.
Hours of play. Hours of laundry.
Seconds that stop me in my tracks, with the surprise of a lingering sweetness in the back of my mouth from licorice tea.
A whole day passes with 12 hours of my baby girl wanting to hold a finger, any finger, just to be close.
A week of snow. A month of cold. A season of indoor play and longing for warm sunbeams.
These slow moments and fast hours are ours for the taking. Long and drawn out, sometimes sweet, always envied by someone. They’re ours, every fleece covered second.