each morning i wake up, i have a sore neck and tense, knotted shoulders and my elbows tingle. i sleep with my baby boy in my arms every night, our limbs like braided dutch bread. when he turns i turn, when i move my hand, his arm stirs. we sleep to the rhythm of each other's heartbeats and breaths and it's a beautiful, very sacred part of my life.
every day on our walks, we pick all the blackberries from the bushes we come across until our hands are stained and lips look like midnight violets. we only get a few feet before gus wants to stop and have me pick more so he can pile handfuls of them into his mouth like popcorn. i have to scrub him in the bath to get all the berries out of his tiny hands and arm creases and throw his stained outfit in the laundry before dinner.
i have been trying to take note of the simple parts of my life that are truly beautiful. lighting my sandalwood candle every morning and evening, making gus banana pancakes, swinging with him in the hammock, barefoot gardening, embroidering after dark, pouring my hot coffee into my favorite mug, foraging for small wild bouquets on our walks, listening to old records, kissing my husband, pouring his wine, noticing how many poems i could write about his eyes alone.
i pulled out my favorite twenty five cent pink dress with flowers yesterday and got to sketching new ideas for new dreams. holding onto what i have with grace touching every piece of it (the light + the dark).
"What is grace?" I asked God.
And He said,
"All that happens."