The light in her eyes . . . oh God, the light in her eyes.

I love that the world looks exactly like my story of it. 

In early morning hours I can feel the fear creeping in.  I close my eyes, and search for the light, and try to remember that the red buds are in bloom.

She’s been grappling with some complex feelings lately.  I’ve been watching and admiring the way she navigates the terrain.

It’s impossible to celebrate Easter without thinking about her.  It was her very favorite holiday.

We string our moments one by one like precious pearls, only sometimes taking time to admire the strand.

I’ve no more time for walls. Heart expansion is really the only way.

Her room seems so empty during the day, and so very full when she’s home.  I long for the slower pace of her early childhood.

I know there is an unending supply, but some days I feel how very valuable it is, and don’t want to give it away.

I stand in the mystery that is my life, and am overcome with awe and appreciation.