The Middle of the Evening

I’m toying with the notion of going back to the old-school-style blog post every now and again, from waaaaay back in the day when I was on Blogger, just sharing thoughts as I had them. No pictures, absolutely nothing fancy, just dispatches from my life or my brain anytime they come along. This 1 came in the middle of the night a couple of weeks back, and I wanted the thoughts to be recorded somewhere ahead of they escaped. If you like the thought or just the post, shoot me a comment and let me know. xoxo

At times it seems like a great thought to create in the middle of the evening. When nobody else is awake, not. even the little newborn girl who’s nursing in my arms. When it’s quiet and my mind is each blurry and totally clear, when I can hear myself consider with out the sounds of doorbells or toy vehicle crashes or washing machines.

Occasionally in the middle of the evening the words come easier. They fly out of me even though my thumbs tap tap tap them out on my telephone with the brightness turned all the way down so I don’t wake her. In the day I search for them endlessly, with feelings caught inside that are begging to be let out but are shy about becoming discovered in the course of the light of day. Throughout the evening can finally say what I imply to say, which appropriate now is this: Babies do not preserve.

I can feel it currently, these sweet days slipping away. Each day my toddler strings a lot more words together. Now he walks into dark rooms by himself. Now he desires to put on his own shoes. Now he pulls his personal chair up to the kitchen counter to assist me wash dishes, and slides them over to me one by one. Tomorrow he will be in college.

My newborn is barely a newborn any much more, and looks at me with wide eyes and bright smiles like she already knows the world. How do you grow 3 inches in 10 weeks, little 1? And I appreciate you sleeping at night but just at times, if you required me to hold you a small extra, I wouldn’t be mad about it.

Cease, time.

In the evening, when it’s quiet and the only motion in the home is me in the rocking chair with Maggie in my arms, every single middle-of-the-evening moment is worth it. Worth the bags under my eyes, the bone-tired days, the operating to catch up with life. And even although my eyes almost won’t remain open I will them to do just that, to remain awake extended sufficient to snatch another moment holding my girl or hearing my boy laugh in his sleep in the next room. These moments. These moments make us. They fill a heart enough to hold it going, swirl around our property and make it property, duck in and out of our days and make us family members. xoxo

Beautiful Indeed