Two posts in one day. But the other doesn't totally count, not because of what it contains, because that slams around in my soul. Mostly because I excerpted it from another collection. Is that cheating? If I wrote it, not just immediately now?
Anyways, I want to post again, because Ellie just came downstairs. THe whole house is coming alive actually, totally not prime time for writing, because something WILL get flushed down the toilet--Lightning McQueen or a Max and Ruby magnet perhaps--but I didn't want to lose this moment, and I'm afraid I would if I didn't write it all out.
So, Ellie. She had to scoot down the stairs, instead of her normal happy-dancing-seizejoy walk, because her arms were full. All of her favorite things were draped around her, like a fuzzy armory--Jesse, Hello Kitty blanket from Grandma, silky blanket, kitty, and a pony she's recently taken with. And I couldn't help but wonder how differently I would face the day if I draped around my conciousness all of the beautiful, favorite, fuzzy things that light up my heart, instead of keeping them neatly tucked in.
How is it that at four, the child has living more right than I do at ten times past? And how do I keep it there, this knowledge of hers, without smudging it away with practical advice of how to make a bed or keep things clean.