aiden wanders down trails strewn with corn husks and i wonder what i’m missing. i wish my shadow was as long as his, stretching across people’s paths stopping to kiss them and squealing over them as if nothing else, no one else, for he is Jesus that way. he makes you feel a million even when you’re wearing your pajamas and dribbling coffee down your chin and wishing for espresso. and i cannot lose him in this maze, this corn maze, for then i’d lose my heart and so i run and we run together, my oldest boy and i, and we find each other amidst the green of stem. and i’ll never forget the day he was born and i hope i always remember, how i felt when they lay his pulsing body long with muscle on my mama-heart. the way it felt when he drew milk from me and the way it feels now when he sits on my lap and i read him stories. and i wish i could stop doing and start drifting as he does, across paths, his shadow stretching long as his arms around anything with a pulse and squealing hard over them because life is worth getting excited about. so drift, friends. dare to wander the trails and kiss the faces of the people you love even if you’ve seen them all day long, let them know: they are worth it. every last bit of it. and you’d do it all over again, the labor of this love again, in a second.
with ann, now…
571. corn-maze visits and petting zoo lingering
572. tiger ice cream dripping delicious
573. the blue of sky, so very blue
574. an agent who refuses to stop believing ((thank you, sandra))
575. prayer, returned to lips
576. peach pie and apple crisp and the smell of cinnamon
577. a husband who helps me make applesauce
578. the ‘laugh your way to a better marriage’ series
579. madeleine l’engle
580. sleeping babe, five hours in a row