scribblechic

Our home is heavy with silence, the anticipation of morning’s discoveries clamoring in the quiet. I am both child and mother as memories and emotions overlap like the tidy seams of carefully wrapped gifts. I am tempted to run my finger across the minute hand and sweep us into morning; the sound of sleepy footsteps lumbering into wakefulness with clumsy eagerness. Instead I am gathering the quiet close, to guard against tomorrow as I linger in the simplicity of so many gifts yet undone. Joy and disappointment, generosity and contentment soon to be torn and crumpled into a clutter of emotions littering the extravagance of our simple offerings.

Tonight, it is enough to sit with my dreams beside so many memories.