this weekend found us piled like a pack of puppies on our brand new bed. all of us watching a marathon of Hoarders. it’s good to watch stuff like that from time to time, a)you feel normal. and b)to keep yourself in check. i may be a shoe hoarder. stubby hubs hunk would that there is no maybe about it. i have a problem. one of the girls had 142 pairs of shoes. he may be right. i’m not saying how many pairs of shoes that i do have, but it may or may not be more that 142. i think that the excuse that my feet have been the same size since 7th grade may be wearing a bit thin on him. of course the goose is thrilled with the opportunity of a shoe windfall. i had to pop her bubble and tell her that her feet won’t be fitting into my shoe for much longer.
while in a pile on the bead, i reached over to pet the bug. i was rubbing his head. i was flooded with a memory. sitting in the rocking chair nursing a new born version of this boy that sits before me. i could fit that head in my hand. so soft, fragile, and peach fuzzy.
that night while tucking him in, i couldn’t help but tell him how perfect he is to me. how he is just the boy i had hoped for. i told him that he is sweet, thoughtful, kind, and smart, that i loved him more than i thought i ever could.
after all, that soft, fragile, peach fuzz covered baby still lives inside of him.
doesn’t it in us all?E