The way B says, “when I’m a grow-m up…”
Except lately, she’s been talking about her self, grown up, in present tense. As in, “Where I live, in Colorado, I work as a nurse to hurt sea animals. My kids help me and we have ponies on our farm. You can come visit me on my farm.”
She discusses having three daughters and a son. She has horses and cats. She doesn’t work on Saturday.
When she’s living in this future world, she calls me “grandmother.” It’s something I’m really, really nowhere near ready for.
The way a mess is actually not a mess at all. It’s a giant tea party.
The way Miles holds up this two index fingers, close to his mouth and says so earnestly, “just one mo mo, Mama, one mo mo” whenever he wants one more.
Family hikes in our backyard. As much as I complain about the heat, I don’t ever want to take for granted the expanse of desert so close to our doorstep.
The savage beauty of being four (almost five), when you know that you know things and crave more and more and more information about the world. And yet, your mama knows you are still so new, so young, so innocent, so unknowing. And still she is blown away by your wisdom.