a few of the things we learned in 2009

:: to climb alone


:: to bike alone


:: to drum


:: to read


:: to sew


:: to build


:: to build some more


:: to have some serious fun


:: to have some not-so-serious fun


:: to find fun in everything


:: to love exactly where we are and what we have

It was a year of firsts - first steps, first school year, first lost teeth. It was a year of endings - closing a business, leaving a band. It was also a year that we had our hearts stretched - the sadness of losing a dear cousin to cancer, the joy of adding a new brother-in-law to our family, the beauty of welcoming a Lithuania orphanage to our prayers and our fundraising efforts, the challenge of figuring out what could be holding back the littlest boy we love so much. But mostly it was a year of ordinary days held together by love. It doesn't get much better than that.

Happy new year!

cleaning is his favorite

Maybe it's because we were cleaning up Christmas at Papa and Gigi's house. Maybe it's because he was in an especially great mood today. But he boxed up decorations, tidied up toys and vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. In between he danced and spun and loudly declared, "Cleaning is my favorite!" Tonight he told us the high point of his day was cleaning. Looks like it's going to be a very tidy new year.

christmas cookie time

In fits and starts we've plowed through cookie making, and the subsequent eating and giving. Our new favorites this year are shortbread cutouts covered in powdered sugar. We used this recipe (using granulated sugar) for the shortbread, then refrigerated the dough, rolled it out and cut small shapes. Once the cookies were cooled we tossed them in powdered sugar. So good, and because they're so small, you can pop ten before feeling the slightest bit bad about it.

On the extra awesome side is this recipe for Chocolate Pistachio Biscotti. I never made biscotti before because I assumed it was difficult. Wrong. An easy treat that looks like you slaved. Highly recommended.

Perhaps our favorite, though, is the basic chocolate chip cookie doctored up holiday style. This recipe may exist out there somewhere, but we concocted it in our kitchen, so I'll just tell you what we did. Nothing wrong with making this goody all year long or, as my dear friend Lauren taught me, eating one or two for breakfast.

Holiday Oatmeal Coconut Cherry Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 cups flour
1 cup old-fashioned oats
1 t. baking soda
1/2 t. baking power
1 t. salt
2 sticks butter
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t. vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup coconut
1/2 cup dried cherries

Mix together flour, oats, soda, powder and salt. In separate bowl beat butter and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla. Stir in dry ingredients, chips, coconut and cherries. Drop on cookie sheet and bake 12 minutes at 350.

not the day we planned

It was to be a cookie-making, card-delivering, gift-sewing, visiting-the-enchanted-railroad-at-the-Arboretum kind of day. But as soon as Elliott popped a little wooden star into his mouth, it was not to be. Two hospitals, one ambulance, six nurses, five x-rays and nine hours later, the nickel-sized star is out and the tired boy and his mama are home. We are grateful for a skilled pediatric gastroenterologist, getting the same anesthesiologist we had once before, kind practitioners all around, nine more days of deductable-met insurance, a grandma who sat with us all day and dear friends who descended with hugs when I slipped in late and empty-handed to our annual neighborhood cookie exchange tonight.

It was not the day we planned, but it is a day that ended well. And that makes it a very good day.

why my kids have a church family - part 2

This Advent, I have been working. A lot. Most mornings I leave the house before anyone is up in order to get to work (at my coffeehouse office) as quickly as possible. As a result, there hasn't been a lot of focus to our Advent preparations. Oh, we have a tree, and the stockings are hung and, when we can sneak it in, some cookies get baked. But as far as a Christmas focus, my boys' anticipation (I am embarrassed to say) has more to do with Santa than with a baby in a manger. I have vowed that beginning this weekend, after I finish up the big project I am working on, there is going to be a lot more focus on the baby Jesus around here. I don't want my kids to go through a whole season and miss the meaning.

Imagine my surprise when last night, past bedtime, as I am, in the ninth hour, making chocolate-covered pretzels to send to school with the gift cards we have to rush out and buy this morning, Liam beautifully and innocently jots this note to his teacher in her Christmas card:

Dear Mrs. McCloud,
Merry Christmas
We give you this present because Jesus was born on Christmas.
From Liam B.

Well, what do you know. Despite my unprepared busyness, a little person is getting the message. And it wasn't like he was pleased with himself or that he even thought the note was so special. It's just the way it is. We give each other gifts because God came as a gift to us.

And so it goes, again. This is why my kids have a church family. When we fail to find time or focus to share the true meaning and motivation behind our love and actions, we've got a team backing us up. Whether he's sitting in church coloring while the choir sings, or in Sunday school gluing popsicle sticks on construction paper, or clearing plates at a free community dinner, or being hugged and high-fived by a family who is sharing and spreading this awesome gift, my son gets more than I could ever give him. Best of all, he ends up teaching me. Thank God for that.

salt dough magic

I have been longing to do crafts with Liam this Advent but my outside workload has made the extras near impossible. On Tuesday morning, however, Liam had his friends Ava and Abby over and I took a break from work to be fun, crafty mom with salt dough. A neighbor had made ornaments like these with her kids and they looked doable. They were actually easy enough for five year olds to help with start to finish. Cheap, easy to clean up, and very gratifying.


To make the salt dough, we stirred together 4 cups of flour and one cup of table salt, then mixed in 1 1/2 cups warm water. Using my hands, I got the dough together into a ball in bowl and then dumped in out onto the counter and kneaded (with the help of my friends) for about 8-10 minutes. Then I rolled the dough out and let the kids each cut out four ornaments. With the dough that was left, they made snowmen, using whole cloves for buttons and eyes. Everything was baked at 325 for about 30 minutes.


Painting was everyone's favorite part. I used a wooden skewer to make holes in to top of each ornament before they went into the oven and then punched the skewer back through as soon as they were baked. None of this is rocket science, but the process and the results made three little artists very proud.

while ringing the Salvation Army bell

It was a cold, cold hour. We netted probably $15. But the memories with Liam made our efforts more than just a nice act of service.

"Try to catch me, lady," he called to me while running in circles around the bucket.

"Let's practice," he said when no one was near, and then repeated in his friendliest, cheesiest tone, "Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas." However, when a friendly soul came and put a buck in the bucket he wouldn't say a word.

My favorite, however, was when we rang and rang our little bells and a stream of people walked in and out of the store without pause. Liam studied them all for a bit then turned to me and said, "Mom, either these people are all out of money or else they think we're just here to play songs."

Not a cynical bone in that little body. What a way to spread good cheer.

news flash

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this special report:

British guitarist Andrew Bordoni will cut his hair short if 100 people buy his new album by December 20. As wife of said guitarist, I am kind of excited by this possibility. It's time for something new around here. Plus, if it happens, at least 100 people will discover this amazing guitar-oriented instrumental rock album. It is sooo good. Hear a little for yourself. (Tracks 1 through 4 are on the new album):




Then, check out the website to order the album and be part of the transformation! (The ponytail will be donated to Locks of Love and 10% of the album sales will go to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.)

mornings like this

He is up before dawn every day now. With the Christmas lights, the cozy afghan, the quiet stillness of the snowy neighborhood, and this little friend who snuggles his blankie next to me on the couch, I almost enjoy it.

tree tradition

:: searching (for God knows what)


:: wondering (if my dad is as crazy as he looks)


:; waiting (for someone to please get me out of this cold)


:: finding (that being outdoorsy ain't all that difficult)


:: celebrating (every last drop)

...and that was the third hot chocolate of the weekend! A sign that it was a wonderful one, indeed.

good intentions

So much to make. So little time. But it makes me happy just to think about all the lovely, lovable and hilarious (oh yes, one of these will be very funny) results . . . if I can pull it off. If not, there's always next year. (And 11 months to get working - as if that would ever happen!)

Cookies, however, will be made. Lots of cookies. Stay tuned.

family friends

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. - C.S. Lewis

This was a weekend chockfull of being with people we love - friends, family and most of all family who are friends. First, a two-day Thanksgiving whirlwind with second cousins, third cousins and first cousins once removed, all of whom are some of the most beautiful people I know. All of whom doted lovingly on my boys. All of whom I wished I could have lingered with longer.

Second, a lunch with a cousin who knows me like no other. A lifelong friend with history and connection. A sister in, oh, so many ways.

Third, a dinner party with longtime friends with whom we can always and everywhere be ourselves. No topic is off limits for discussion. No joy goes uncelebrated. No sadness goes unseen.

Finally, a sibling bash with all eight adults and four children in attendance. An incredible culinary potluck, heavy on the pastry-wrapped brie and the brownies. A happiness and togetherness that just is. A preview of a long-awaited Christmas gathering - in which new uncle Tim will finally get to appear in the family photo!

It's true that friends and family who are friends are not needed for survival, but as the weekend showed, life would be just empty and sad without them. It was a true thanks giving.

a small world afterall

I've been meaning to write about a wonderful coincidence that happened several weeks ago when school began, but I keep getting sidetracked. Let me just begin by saying that it really is a small, small world. Here's the story.

At kindergarten orientation this summer I signed up to help with Art Volunteers in the Classroom, which is an exciting elementary school program in our district that enables parents with a background or interest in art to go into the classroom to teach. Very cool. Anyway, at the start of the school year I went to a meeting at the coordinator's house. It was a cute farmhouse-like home just a few blocks from mine and although I had never seen it before or met the woman hosting the meeting, I had an odd sense of familiarity. It was strange, but I had the feeling that I had seen the inside of this house before.

After dropping our kids off for kindergarten that afternoon, I chatted with the woman in whose home I had been. I discovered that she was an artist and then asked her if she liked to visit blogs. After a few moments, we realized that not only did we visit many of the same blogs, we had visited each other's blogs! In fact, I often visited her blog and, in pictures, had seen glimpses of the inside of her house. But I had no idea that she - Emily - lived anywhere near me. (I do, however, remember my friend Ann telling me about Emily's blog and saying that she thought Emily might live in my town. I just figured, what are the chances of that? And how would I even find her if she did?)

Most of what I knew about Emily was that she was an excellent knitter and that she dyed yarn (gorgeous yarn) and sold it in her Etsy shop. But a few days later, upon further investigation of her blog, I discovered that she also sews art quilts, incredible ones. As I perused Emily's art quilt website, I began to get that familiar feeling again. I knew I had seen these quilts before, and I had! Emily was one of the featured quilters on a PBS special I had watched on DVD called The Art of Quilting. How crazy is that?

I, wannabe quilter and aspiring excellent knitter, get to loiter on the school grounds waiting for the dismissal bell with this gem of a woman who is every bit as down to earth as she is talented. Every day I look forward to seeing her and talking to her. I guess you could say I had a blog crush that completely unexpectedly is becoming a real life friendship. Lucky me.

i think you should read this

It's a radical, convicting, beautiful statement of faith. It's in Esquire magazine. I think you should read it. That's all I'm going to say.

why my kids have a church family

Tonight was our church's second ever Third Tuesday Supper. Brought to life by a few visionary members, this event is - in my humble opinion - the greatest thing our church has done. Every third Tuesday of the month, tables are beautifully set, a delicious dinner is prepared, and from 5-7 pm the doors are open - to absolutely anyone. No charge. No strings attached. There is no donation basket, no soup kitchen atmosphere. This is a communal supper, shared by all. Both nights so far, we have served over 200 guests - probably an equal mix of people who attend our church and people from the community, young and old.

Liam and Elliott and I arrived at 5 pm and ate with a single mom and her teenage boy and an older woman who was clearly stretching her pennies and couldn't get over that the meal was free. After talking about high school and gardening and how fast kids grow, we excused ourselves and got to work. Aprons and name tags donned, Liam and I set about clearing plates, refilling water pitchers and visiting with friends and strangers, while Elliott worked the room and got showered with attention from the 5th and 6th grade girls who love him so.

My favorite part of the night was watching Liam approach people who had finished eating. "May I take your plate, sir?" "May I take your plate, ma'am," he'd say. It was the sweetest thing, and impressive, considering my only real instruction to him was to "use good manners."

I love that my five year old is serving people, especially people who are not used to being served. I love that my two year old is free to entertain, especially in a room of people who don't normally get greeted by an enthusiastic toddler. I love that elementary and middle school kids not only know my kids by name, but that they sweep them into a huge embrace every time they see them. I love that at this place, with these people, we can be the hands and feet of Jesus. I love that we not only feel at home, we are home. This is why my kids have a church family.

to the friendliest boy in town

Dear Elliott,

This morning I had errands to run and daddy thought I should take you with me (mostly because you were crying to go), but I was in a hurry and I wanted to run around alone. I sighed, and I took you. Because here's the thing, even with the extra time of strapping the car seat and towing you along by the hand, being with you in a public place makes my day. How many mamas of two-and-a-half-year-old boys can say that?

You, Mr. E, are an uplifter. You are a greeter, a welcomer, the friendliest boy in town. Every single person you see, you greet. "Hi!" you shout to the cart collector. "Hello!" you bellow to the old lady passing us in the parking lot. "Hi, hi, hi, hi," you repeat to the grumpy man who wouldn't typically give any child the time of day. Every person within shouting distance gets blessed by your friendliness. And nearly every one looks pleased to be noticed. A few stop to talk. Most say "hi" back. At the very least, we get a smile. There are times, like this morning, when I get teary eyed carrying you around. I get to be the proud mama of the blessing boy. It is a beautiful privilege indeed.



In addition to being gregarious and kind, you love to be silly. You wear funny things. Wigs and sunglasses are your favorites.

Yesterday you had to wear a little hospital gown and hospital socks. It wasn't so silly. You needed a procedure to check your tummy and mama and daddy dreaded it, but you were incredible. I will never forget the ache I felt looking at you on the scale with your little gown on and then watching you be wheeled away on the gurney. It is the worst moment for a parent, knowing that your little boy's care is completely out of your hands. It is in those moments when we have to have the most faith, knowing God's hands are underneath it all.

I also will never forget how much and how dearly I got to snuggle you yesterday. Even when I am an old, old lady, I will remember how your hair smelled and your warm little body felt all nestled into mine. A friend recently asked if it was really worth it to have kids. If for nothing more than than the snuggles, I give a resounding "yes"!

But there is so much more.

We always think that we have a lot to teach you - letters and numbers, not to bite, how to eat with a fork, the list goes on. But truly, you are teaching us, sweet boy. You are teaching us to be friendlier, to be curious, to be awed, to be silly, to be affectionate, to really love life. Without you, Elliott, we would miss so much.

Whenever we are out somewhere and you say hello to a couple people, you turn to me, look me in the eye and say sweetly, "I said 'hi.'" For a while I thought you were looking for approval or affirmation. But now I think you are encouraging me to step it up. "Look, mom," you're telling me, "I'm not hiding my light under a bushel. I'm out there. I'm brightening people's days. You can, too."

Elliott, you make me want to be a better person. Now, if that's not the sign of a remarkable child, I don't know what is.

Thank you, my friendly boy. You are a treasure.

Love,
Mama

doctored-up pumpkin bread

I love the day when the cans of organic pumpkin puree hit the shelves at Trader Joes. No other brand out there compares. This fall, I stocked the pantry and started pulling out our favorites, including Southwestern Pumpkin Soup and the deadly Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Squares. This weekend, though, I really wanted to make a pumpkin bread as a nice reward after umpteen million hours of yard work. The thing is, I am wary of pumpkin bread recipes because I have never found a good one. They are either too spongy or too spicy or too blah. Figuring I didn't have a lot to lose, I made up my own version. I think we found a winner.

Coconut Pumpkin Bread
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup applesauce
2 eggs
1/3 cup coconut milk
1 cup (1/2 can) pumpkin puree
1 3/4 flour
1 t baking soda
1 t salt
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t ginger
1/4 t nutmeg
1/4 t cardamom
1/2 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Mix together sugars, oil, applesauce, eggs and cocnut milk. Stir in pumpkin. Stir or sift together dry ingredients and fold into wet mixture. Stir in coconut and nuts (if using). Pour into greased loaf pan. Bake at 350 for an hour.

(This recipe would probably work without the white sugar if the brown was increased a bit. It would also work just using 1/2 cup of oil and no applesauce, and vice versa. And, as for spice, use ones that you like. Just be sure to get a good pumpkin puree, if you can.)

surviving sick days

Since Sunday Andrew has been holed up in bed with a bad case of man flu. (I say that only semi-jokingly since he was really quite sick.) The boys and I have been taking advantage of the library, the close proximity of grandparents and the beautiful yet fleeting days of autumn. In spite of loads of client work that is mostly getting done in the late evening hours, sleeping on the not-so-comfortable couch to try and stay well, and the herculean effort needed to stay on top of the dishes and laundry, we have faired okay being minus one for the week. (Thankfully daddy is on the road to recovery. Alleluia.)


Tonight I washed and packed away our little Indian boy costume. Both boys have worn it. I think I have a soft spot for boys in head dresses and fringe. We've also been packing away the homemade bread and granola and new smoothie concoctions, jammed with as many antioxidants and flu- and cold-busting foods as possible. Sometime they drink them and some days, when there's just too much raw broccoli, not so much. Secretly, I have been dreaming of cookies and loving Gourmet's favorite cookie recipes 1941-2008. I'm kind of obsessing over this one.

I have also been thinking a lot about my sewing machine, maybe because sitting at it this week is a sheer impossibility. So many projects started and ideas in mind, but I keep coming back to this project on Craft Hope, which is basically to make a quilt for a homeless child. The quilts are due November 15. I have never made a quilt or anything close. But it's on my mind. A lot. If my immune system holds up and I can catch up on my paying jobs, just maybe.


Despite the crazy smoothies and vitamin enrichment, Liam succumbed to a fever yesterday, too. I knew he was really feeling ill when he didn't fight staying home from school. In the late morning, however, he got a second wind and did some drawing. On his own initiative he made this for his teacher Mrs. McCloud. I love five. Just so darn cute.

there is no greater compliment

Every day I look forward to seeing if there is anything special in Liam's backpack after school. Today was sweet, indeed.

a destination story

Friday night I went with a friend to hear Donald Miller, an author I love, speak about his newest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. He said big, provocative, daring stuff. My favorite being that the idea of a blessed existence comes from commercialization. Because, in a nutshell, we are not here to be fulfilled or blessed or even part of some special plan. If you look at it from a global perspective, those are American ideas, not Biblical ones. Ultimately, said Don, we are here to write a story.

As a storyteller of sorts, I like the concept, but swallowing it goes against what most of us strive for - comfort, calm, security, safety, abundance. Because if a story consists of a character wanting something and having to overcome conflict to get it (consider every great story you've known and see if this isn't true), then writing a great story just sets a person up for pain and difficulty, not the stuff we usually go after (and think we deserve, are promised, etc.). And, it presupposes that one might actually want something other than new carpet, more sleep and the checks to come on time.

On Friday, Don told about his rude awakening when a couple screenwriters wanted to create a movie based on his first book, Blue Like Jazz, which is basically a collection of essays, and he realized that his life didn't make a very good story. It was boring and pretty uninspiring. It didn't have the elements of a great story. As a result, he started The Mentoring Project to address the lack of support and role models for fatherless boys. Taking on the project was scary and overwhelming. It takes time and money and energy to keep it going. But, as a fatherless boy himself, Don wants to see these kids loved and helped, and now he's going to overcome any conflict to do it.

The message in church this morning echoed so much of what Don said. I love when that happens. Feeling you are in all the right places at the right time, hearing things that are meant for you to hear. But it's not easy stuff. It would be simple to just nod, sign up to make some more lunches for the local homeless shelter and call it a day. I don't want conflict in my life any more than the next guy. But I think God does.

Think how we are with our children. We want to protect them. We try to keep them from difficulty and painful situations. But aren't we coddling them when we do this? If they don't experience pain and heartache and conflict, how can they ever be an empathetic friend to someone else? How can they ever understand the value of something? How can they ever grow? It pains us to see our children suffer but would we really want them to live a sterile, pain-free existence? I doubt it. And so, I believe, God feels this way for us.

He knows that it's the conflict that makes the difference between a lame story and a great one. But he also knows that it's hope that makes it possible to start writing. Hope like this:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
And the list goes on.

We don't have to be shaped by our past, whatever it is. Instead we can be formed by God's future, where there is justice and mercy and unconditional love. We can do big things, scary things, great story things, when we have this kind of hope and future.

The way I see it, God gave us a destination and he gave us a pen. Come what may, the rest is up to us.

walking home from school

Hands down, this is the most spectacular autumn in memory. Most of the day I am far too busy to notice, which I why I savor the sweet moments walking Liam to and from school. This week has been especially brilliant - and bittersweet. Whether it's magical colored leaves or spunky five year olds, seasons change. I'm never ready, but always pleasantly surprised by what comes next. Right now we're just trying to relish the few romps in the leaves that we have left. Enjoy your day!

big steps

By 30 months, drawing independently without eating or throwing crayons isn't typically a topic for a blog post. But for this 30 month old, the accomplishment is a minor miracle. Liam was at the table drawing and Elliott climbed up on a chair, picked up a crayon, held it perfectly - which I have never seen him do before - and started very deliberately and slowly drawing circles, while stating proudly, "drawing kitties" (which, of course, sounded more like "awing idies"). He went through three pieces of paper, then finally declared, "all done," and got down from the chair.

It is difficult to express the emotion of those ten minutes. After hearing a neurologist just five months before say that she suspected Elliott had a genetic condition that is basically a form of mental retardation and quite possibly autism, these moments bring us to tears. Literally.

Over the past six weeks, Elliott's development has just soared. He makes us meals in his kitchen, plays trains for long periods of time, sits and looks at books, tells us what he sees and needs and feels, and, in pure Elliott fashion, says "hi" to absolutely everyone he sees. The boy is smart and focused and social. A second neurologist confirmed this for us last week when he concluded that other than lax ligaments that have led to Elliott's gross motor delays, there is nothing neurologically wrong with him. We are thanking God for leading us down alternative paths that we know have made a huge difference in Elliott, including chiropractic care, supplements and diet changes. He is waking up. Thank you, Lord.


The other boy also had some things to celebrate last week, particularly earning a yellow belt in Taekwondo, and bringing mom to tears again. The determination and joy evident in Liam's face as he went through the testing were priceless. And who can argue the five tenets of Taekwondo? Courtesy, sir! Integrity, sir! Perseverance, sir! Self control, sir! Indomitable spirit, sir!

At the end of the testing, he had to break a board with his fist. On one side of the board he had to write a habit he wanted to break and on the other side, a goal. After thinking about it a couple days, he wrote out the habit: "Stop being bossy to my friends." (He IS his mother's son.) And the goal: "Be nicer to my brother." It is funny and exciting to me that the one activity that's character building, discipline inducing, and run by tough yet tender role models is the one activity Liam never complains about. Beautiful.

8 years, celebrating normal

Recently I read a blog post extolling the virtues of a normal day. If this year of marriage has revealed anything new, it is this: A normal day, which to some outsider might look mundane or simple or even a little disorganized and crazed, is a treasure. Case in point, today, which marks eight years of marriage to my generous, involved, loyal, loving and stubborn Brit, went from rushing around to get the garbage out at 6:45 a.m. to breakfast out (a treat) to laundry and cleaning to Halloween decorating to guitar lessons to conference call to celebrating new words from Elliott to a play date with neighbors to free community dinner at church to choir for Liam to church council meeting to relaxing on the couch. We had the special anniversary dinner on Sunday, which made this day strikingly similar to every day. But I paid attention to it a little more. I relished it a little more. I gave thanks that this is where I am today. I wasn't yearning for some perfect tomorrow.

Last year I wrote a post about Andrew and ten of the reasons why I love him so. This year, in the wake of the death of another tremendous husband, difficult financial situations and uncertainties with Elliott, I am simply grateful for the normal days and for what holds us together - for faith and humor and passion and that intense desire to want our love and time and resources to extend to a larger circle. We all have periods of trial and joy; normal is where we live life out. Discovering that this place is both precious and enough, that's the secret.

[If you lament normal or often yearn for "some rare and perfect tomorrow," I highly recommend reading this poignant and beautiful post. I was really inspired by it, as you will see.]

dear elliott

I am so glad that you are here.
You always say hello. And hello. And I said hello.
You spot bird songs and airplanes and falling leaves.
You gasp.
You smile wild.
Nothing delights you like jumping,
even if your feet never leave the ground.
I am so glad that you are here.
A walk in the park with you
helps me remember how beautiful my world is.