I have a ratty green robe that I love and adore, it is currently in the washing machine and like a five year old concerned for her beloved blankie, I am feeling rather impatient for it to be done.
Before I threw it in the machine I had to check my pockets, because it doesn’t matter if I am dressed up to go out, if I am still in, I am wearing my robe, and that means that I get handed stuff and I pick up stuff and it all accumulates over the day and into a pocket it goes.
I take it all out fondly, I find a marble and a purple gel pen, a tiny dress that belongs to Blythe from LPS, there is a Gormiti, two legos, a small runner ball and a small little drawing that was carefully folded and given to me right at lunch time, it is a picture of a cow, the words “mommy, Elli” carefully written out.
I love being a mom.
Given who I am, my own strange personality, it sometimes strikes me as a little humorous that I love being a mom so very much.
This is on my mind right now, as I wait for the washer to finish up, because it is snowing out and we have a few pretty cold days ahead of us.
But Spring is right around the corner, next week actually, but soon, sooner then I think it will be warm sunshine and green all around. And my children will escape to spend the next six months outside at every possible moment, it will be beautiful, amazing, but a little sad too.
The winter forces us close, I can hear them all from where I am now, I type away and they talk and giggle and play.
We read together, all snuggled up in front of the fire, and I listen to them talk, to me, to each other. They are here and they Wonderful.
Every summer they slip away a little more.
Winter brings them back to me for just a little while….
Until summer takes them once again, farther away, older still.
I love this snowstorm.