Wistful peace
My favorite time of day to write is now, on the edge of a warm summer night and mystic breeze, by only the dim light of my phone and the moon’s reflection: I have arrived, have found a moment worth holding onto until it’s gone. My son came up for a sweet good night adieu as he called on his dog and whispered I love you back before drifting off to bed from what I hope was a day well spent, on his own time, having visited with friends and found his creative stride. As for the rest of this motley crew, we walked, we explored sadness or at least mine and enjoyed food made by others before coming home and realizing that a 5pm nap made sense, though somewhat restless with our 7 week old newborn, we slumbered together on this bed atop that evening breeze turned night sky and glimmering reflection and I held this precious life in my arms. And as I laid there every so often between sleep cycles I would feel the warmth and safety of his embrace and get to call him not just father of my child but...
