I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts.
Blame it on the sunshine that's filling every room of this house like a gigantic glitter ball, dancing with the spider webs and making the dust bunnies do the tango across the hard wood floors.
Blame it on the fact that my washing machine died a slow and painful death on Friday. Add this to the little worry of the flat tire a few weeks back and now a rusted exhausted system on our dependable quatre quatre, it makes sense why I'm having such a wonderful time wasting time being nervous about something else mechanical going wrong.
Blame it on the fact that my father turned 70 Sunday and I'm still wondering how that happened. How is it possible that it's been 10 years since I was living with my parents wondering what on earth would become of me and of them in the years to come?
Blink. Here we are. Alive, well, and surrounded by people we never knew we would love so much. His life, our lives, passing along as they should.
Blame it on the fact that we spent yesterday outside on a glorious mountain, skiing through mashed potatoes disguised as snow, laughing, falling, learning, singing, being. Four of us look like a family of rabies infested raccoons today. From the neck up, that is. The confidence Mini-Husband has on that mountain makes me want to cry. He's so beautiful and strong that boy. If only he could see what I see.
Blame it on the fact that Rosie will be a year old later this month. This amazing year of wonders. When will it be that I get to hold and snuggle someone so little and so dear to me again?
Blame it on the grass that's starting to grow slowly, tiny blade by tiny blade, in the front garden. I've thrown the seeds and watched, wondering how it will all turn out in that patch of dust. Will it grow? Will it grow?
Blink. In a month's time, I'll be begging the big two to please, please, please, just go cut the grass.
How can one have organized thoughts when all this happening so slowly, so vividly, so intensely around you?