it feels good

i am blessed, i am blessed, i am blessed, i remind myself as the warmth of the sun brushes against my skin, kissing the girls' cheeks as they play peek-a-boo. behind me sits a bag of grout, another of cement, and nine boxes of yet-to-be-laid tile. this may just be the first moment i have allowed myself to admit this, the light pouring into the room still, blessing.

why is it hard to count them? the good things? david could tell you so so quickly it's not my strong suit. i stir and i wallow and i sulk far too often. it feels good to let the bitterness brew. it feels good to let the anger simmer a bit.


but for a moment--this moment, my sun-moment--i let go.

exhaling the anxiety and frustration, the why me's and the desire to give up, i surrender.

and i begin to count.

the flush of amelia's cheeks as she fell asleep in my arms but ten minutes ago

the whisper and giggles of hadley playing pretend when she should be falling asleep as well

laundry piles on the couch--from our very own washer and dryer

the sun now playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds; the knowledge it won't be gone forever

just four little reasons to keep going, four more than none.

and as much as stewing in my anger gives me a good thrill, this feels good too.