If I could find the words, I'd tell you how happy I am to sink down deep into summer days with my loves.
I'd ask you to remind me some day, years from now, that I loved these little girls exquisitely.
I'd confess that I'm working and worrying too much. That I haven't made it to the coffee shop with a novel yet.
I'd say I have little patience for novels these days. Maybe I haven't found the right one yet, or maybe my head is full of other stories.
I am happy to feast my eyes on beautiful cinematography, and on these faces that change imperceptibly every day.
If I could find the words, I would name this feeling I get when I hold my little one, wrapped in my favorite childhood blanket.
Her silky skin, and the pale blue lining whose color has drained all out but whose softness remains--it's what eternity would feel like if you could touch it with your hands.
I would introduce you to my friend Jeff, and let you hear how he makes me laugh. Especially when his glasses are broken and he's wearing his prescription sunglasses indoors like a rock star.
I'd ask you to be patient with me as I swim through wordless seas, even though the one who most needs patience is me.
Then I'd fill my lungs and plunge back under again.