"God showed me something small, no bigger than a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand… and it was round as a ball. I looked at it with the eye of my understanding and thought: 'What can this be?' And it was generally answered thus: 'It is all that was made.' It was so small I thought it might disappear, but I was answered... everything has being through the love of God." --Julian of Norwich

Friday, November 22, 2013

Five Sense Friday

 It's Friday!

This morning I was laying in bed in the weak light--knowing that it was writing day and that I needed to get moving so I could get some work done, but just unable to motivate myself to leave the  down covers and cushy memory-foam topped bed--when I heard Lucy make a giggling rush for my bedroom door.  Clint opened the door, and she came in, smiling with her whole face, her hair sticking out in every direction and ran to the side of my bed, wiggling her fingers. "Tickle you, tickle you" she giggled in her tiny voice.  "Wake up Mommy!  Mommy, wake up!" 

She climbed up over the covers and over my body, nestled in with a  "Yoyee Yoim"/"Lowly Worm" book she had brought with her (which is what she calls every book by the delightful Richard Scarry), and proceeded to "read" the pictures on every page, making note of every piggy holding a fork, and calling every character by name and station (i.e. pointing out the bad guys and the good guys and the "mystery bug" with his own hat and shoes and the piggy with a fork that had two cherries on it from his cherry pie).  I slowly roused to these happy sounds, got up, dressed for what I knew would be a chilly day (Lucy still commentating), gave Clint a good morning kiss, and made myself a poppy bagel with cream cheese.

After a bit of delay for bathroom-sharing, makeup-applying and toddler-wrangling to get her bundled up in hundreds of layers of clashing colors, we all set out on a walk together through the frost-tipped morning.  Lucy rode in her red umbrella stroller.  The cool bit my cheeks as we pointed out the white frost.  I wished I had remembered a toque to keep my own head warm.  Her little girl cheeks seemed so round over her scarf.  Then we parted ways, Lucy and her dad for a date at "her" Diner, me for my work in a buzzing coffee-shop.

The words come slow this morning, sleep still drags at me as I sip my honeybush tea.  But a new day is here and the work calls me.

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