It’s cold, gray, and rainy.
It’s the kind of day that somehow smells like a cup of hot chai. Because you know that the only way to truly redeem a day like today is to sit with an afghan and sip something hot and spiced.
Ahh. Yes, days like today are an excuse to revel in everything cozy.
That said, I have not, in fact, sipped anything warm, and I don’t know where the nearest available afghan is.
Still, those are my thoughts on today.
Sometimes Jameson does something that is at once so adorable that it makes my heart hurt. I can’t always explain why such things are adorable, or why they make we want to cry, but I have my hunches.
One such thing was that today, he fell asleep (at last, after having a grumpy few hours) in my arms, and when I carried him into the bedroom, I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror. His sweet baby arm was dangling, and his chubby baby fingers were clutching — even in sleep — the plastic lid he’d last been playing with.
And I suddenly had one of those heart pains.
My hunch is that those pains have something to do with him growing up someday.
Yesterday, my sisters took off with my baby. They walked down to see Aubrey, and he happily followed them.
And I — well, I made a nice curried chicken soup, happily chopping potatoes and herbs and carrots with no interruption. I made a nice spiced pound cake, and washed all of the dishes as soon as I was done. I grabbed some scissors and scrounged up a little bouquet from the last of Mom’s gardens. All without interruption.
Oh, I loved those quiet hours in my mom’s kitchen, happily making a meal I knew she’d enjoy, that I knew would bless her. Felt like the “old” days.
But you know what? I sort of missed my little sidekick, pulling himself up with the aid of my pants…