I loved it when winter would begin to fade away. Trees would blossom. Bulbs push up from the ground. The feeling of the warm sun on bare arms.

While the Spring is still really beautiful, it is no longer my favorite.

When they look back through the blur of memories that was their upbringing and picture my face, I hope that my coffee stained teeth are on full display and that the laugh lines around my eyes are etched deep.

First Published in iola Magazine

“As I walk in this maternal calling, I am taught lesson upon lesson of selflessness, bravery, and prayer.  There are stretch marks on more than just my belly. My soul contains the stripes of someone who has been pushed to her limits.”

Slowness gives space for marvel. Marvel gives way to worship. And worship renders time obsolete.

There are many reasons they come to me at night, but the most common culprit that pulls them out of bed to flee to the safety of my arms is fear.

One of the things I love most about Lyla is her “mess.” She is an unstoppable pink and purple tumbleweed of loud, high-pitched talking and bouncing curls. She leaves behind her a trail of laughter and glitter. Her emotions are unpredictable and untamed and always seem to bubble up at bedtime where she recently wept and wailed, “I don’t think I’m ready to be a big sister! I still make too many bad choices!”

Our rhythm has been interrupted and what’s left is a fumbling for the steady.

Dandelions are an interesting little flower. I’d never realized before last year that they open and close as the sun moves across the sky.