2/25/14
I hear the gulping and breathing of Adele nursing. I'm tempted to pick up my phone and surf the something mindless. But I fight it and I stop and listen to her nursing sounds.
I look up. I see the mess of diapers on Wes' dresser. It always frustrates me that we have a makeshift changing station in our bedroom because we still haven't moved Kate into Emelines room so Adele can use the nursery. That mess always frustrates me. And I think to myself, someday that mess will be gone. But this time, instead of relief and hope for that day, I feel sad. Someday that mess of diapers will be gone. And with it, someday we won't have a sweet baby with sweet baby smells and sweet baby smiles.
I listen. I hear the sounds of the girls in the bath. The never ceasing noise around me. But someday I won't hear the sounds of my kids in the bath. Someday the silence will be sad.
Instead of surfing the mindlessness out there, I wrote this. I paused, I saw, I listened, and I wrote it down with hopes I will remember these fleeting moments.
The days are long, hard, and oftentimes make me feel like a prisoner. But when I actually look up and listen, it's a beautiful place. And I only get to be here once.
