Dear Ever Joy,
It's Saturday in February, but it feels like June. Daddy is working today, but we were able to get in a Famers Market run, where we bought nothing, before he had to leave. You fell asleep in the car and didn't wake up when we took you out and then put you back in. You're a sleepy girl today.
You were getting fussy so I nursed you back to sleep. And here we lay, on our fresh white bed. Open windows bringing in the smell of spring, the touch of a cool breeze, and the sound of Saturday happening outside. Cars zooming past, voices of parents with children, the airplanes taking off from the nearby airport. It's all so sweet. I don't want to forget any of it. Your little feet resting on my thighs. Your sleeping lips still sucking for comfort. Your open, content hands. They way you smell today, like laundry and baby shampoo and milk all mixed together making the perfect scent.
Can we stay here forever?
Soon you'll wake up and we'll proceed with our day. And these moments that I wish would last a lifetime will fade into memories like all the others. And my heart will break a little more as we're both another day older.