the days that make up our life.

my mama came over saturday afternoon. in her hands was a recycled golden lindt chocolate box with homemade blueberry muffins inside, the ones with the sugary tops. we talked for hours while passing opaline between our arms and the big kids were at the park with daddy. on sunday we headed to the old town of sonoma where all three children slept on the way. "it's like we are on a date," he said and took my hand. he pointed out all the pathways of where he used to tread on his file mile runs. "that's the house i used to dream about," and "that's where i would always see these two beautiful great danes."

the children ran free and the sky was gray like used charcoal. we stopped at dutch bros and the kids got muffin tops (chocolate chip, her, lemon poppy, him) and we got soy lattes.  gus was still hungry when we arrived so he and steve walked into a local pizza place and came out with a bag of long breadsticks and marinara sauce. when fiorella ran up to the park, she saw a little girl with yellow hair and bright pink pants on and without any thought she said "do you want to be my friend?" they must've played for over an hour before asking each other their names. i shyly told the little girl's parents, "how beautiful would it be if we could all just make friends like they did."

steve encouraged me to go look at some of the shops while the kids played and so i did. i wrapped opaline in the ergo and anxiously popped my head into little shops ~ things i just don't quite do these days. i smelled soaps with names like oleander, jasmine and lily of the valley and held tiny jellycat bunnies in my hands.  i came back to them out with a brown bag of bubblegum, pearl crayons, smelling erasers, a baso-wood flying airplane, an old fashioned bar of hershey's, swirly lollipops, and a pink box of faux matches called romance. i hid the airplane behind my back for gus and he nearly screamed while atop the slide. his love of airplanes lately is so deep. sadly, it broke minutes later and when went back to get another, the shop was closed. you could have cut a gemstone with the sadness that came from that moment.

last night, we had a dance party to this song while they brushed their teeth. and after we said our good night's and i tucked them back into bed, fi said, "mama we forgot our kisses. we never forget our kisses."