the quiet of the afternoon, both boys dreaming in their beds,
wrapping myself in a cozy sweater,
the trees gently dancing, the last of the leaves holding on for dear life.
the rattle of clothes in the dryer,
feet in slippers.
holding the baby close when he wakes,
pressing my lips into squishy cheeks,
over and over,
and his long curled eyelashes.
falsettos and piano,
natural light, softly through the panes of glass
and faint snowflakes quietly cascading, barely seen.
This post is a part of a 31 day series in which I write about the extraordinary in my ordinary moments. To see a list of all the other posts, click here.