I’ll fold the pajames a little bit slower tonight.

I’ll linger a little bit longer while I hug you good night.

I’ll answer a little bit more when you call out for me.

I’ll listen as you spin your tales a little bit more intensely.

I’ll walk a little bit more slowly through the park as you look at the ducks.

I’ll clean a little bit faster to sit & read you one more book.

I’ll close my computer a little bit sooner to blow a few more bubbles.

I’ll laugh a little bit louder at your jokes.

I’ll climb the steps a little bit slower just to hold your hand a few second more before tucking you in.

I’ll let me cuddles with you be a little bit tighter while watching your favorite movie.

I’ll make a little bit more growls as we play zoo.

I’ll sing your favorite song a little bit longer.

I’ll exercise a little bit more patience with you.

I’ll allow myself to wonder a little but farther about who you’ll be.

I’ll remind myself a little but more what your little voice sounds like.

I’ll wake up a little bit earlier to make you a special breakfast.

I’ll lower my voice a little bit when you step out of line.

I’ll remember a little bit more how you smelled as an infant

I’ll pick up your toys a little bit slower after you go to bed.

Because one day I’ll wonder why I didn’t take just a little bit more time for you & it’ll be to late because you’ll be off making a little bit of your own memories.

I had something else to write about for tomorrow {today Monday}. But as I’m sitting here watching the news I can’t help but feel anything but overwhelming emotions & my Royal Wedding thoughts will have to wait.

I remember where I was on 9/11. I was home from work, I finished my school work early & I was waiting for O-Town to make an appearance on Live with Regis & Kelly.

But that never happened.

Instead what came were sights that my 13 year old self did not understand.

“Mom! A plane just crashed into some building in New York”.

Shortly after that my Dad called to say he was on his way home. He was afraid that Norfolk, VA would be a target because of our Naval base.

And it was then that the gravity of the situation hit me.

My home.

My country.

Our lives, were under siege.

That night we had an emergency prayer meeting at our church & I remember sitting with my friends as we weeped over the loss.

The lost parents. The lost children. The lost husbands. The lost wives. The lost friends.

The loss of security.

And today the man responsible for all of that is gone.

I am sadden over all of the lives that have been lost in pursuit of him.

But I am also grateful.

To the children who miss Christmas with their fathers or mothers.

To the spouses who sleep alone at night.

To the brave & courages men & woman who fight.

Thank you for your sacrifice.

Thank you.

As I’m sure you can guess my mind is running on extra this week & Fadra’s brain dump was exactly what I needed. I will be off on Tuesday headed to California, but don’t worry I leave you in some very capable hands. Make sure to check back starting Tuesday. Until we speak again…wish us luck.

The things that I have accumnlated over the 4-5 years Shawn & I have been together can fit into a storage unit. And not a very big one. As I slam the door shut & lock it up. I think “This is what we’ve been waiting for”. This is what we prayed for. What we agonized over.

A career. An opportunity. Security. And we just may have that.

My emotions are pretty even today, Sunday. But I’m not sure oif they will be Tuesday morning as I’m saying good bye to my family & flying off to a new experience. I wonder if I will cry because I am leaving my family or if I will cry because this is what we wanted.

The other stuff we own that hasn’t been shoved into a storage unit has been packed into a large rubbermaid container & put on a Greyhound to start its journey before us. Will it make it there safely?

Will it somehow fall off in the Arizona desert leaving us only with 4 suitcases of odds & ends?

Are we going to have to come home an admit failure in 3 months or are we going to have to come home and admit success, empty the storage & wave goodbye for good?

Pride.

So proud of him for accomplishing exactly what we wanted, but weren’t sure we could have. Pride.

The excitement. The anticipation. The expectation that it will keep us all from work. Keep us all from the commitments of  functions, dinners, play dates and leave us snuggling in bed with a glass of red, a good book and roaring fire.

The snow.

The cute fur lined boots. And comfy down coats. The homemade hot cocoa and family game night. The snow angels. The snow ball fights. The sledding. The romance of it all.

The snow is falling and leaving accidents in its wake.

The snow is falling and tree limbs are dangling.

The snow is falling and power lines are down.

The snow is falling and the last of the milk is being stirred into the coffee.

The snow is falling and there’s nothing on TV but the news anchors talking about the winter wallop.

The snow is falling and being trudged into the house and into the car.

The snow is falling and quickly becoming ice.

The snow is falling and suddenly no longer pristine.

No longer white. No longer clean and fresh.

The snow is falling. The snow is yellow, black, & brown. Anything but romantic.

via

The snow is falling and is whipping & whistling and the hopes of a snow angel are buried under the fur lined boots.

There’s a baby in your belly.

Wishes in your heart.

A baby in your arms.

A laugh. A calm. A peace.

A fresh & clean smell.

A baby in your arms with all the excitement the expectation and anticipation that one can hope for.

There is no longer a baby in your arms but a boy with a will.

No longer a baby in your arms in peace, but a boy whining for nothing but yogurt at 10 PM.

There is a baby in your arms while you slush around the rustled up dinner.

There is a baby in your arms that cost you more then you thought….and those snow angels had to be put on hold.

But there is a break. There is a moment where the snow stops. Where the whining subsides.

And there is a baby in yours arms who wants you to hold them. There is snow on the ground waiting for you & your angel.

Edit: I really enjoy writing Stream of Consciousness post and I’m thinking about writing them more often. I often get the inspiration to write them from all kinds of things.

This post was inspired by a passage on page 25 of After the Fall. I hope you guys like my new SOC post. I need to come up with a clever title for them.

*Linked up at Wordful Wednesday

My mom heard a saying once “Matter holds memory”

The last few weeks I have been going through all of our things in my parents storage area. Re-packing (because of a mold issue) and getting ready to put it into another storage facility.

Read this post for clarity on why our things are in storage.

It was after going through all of Phoenix’s old baby clothes that I wrote this post.

I didn’t realize how affected I would be by going through all of our things packed away in boxes and left for the spiders to explore.

The wine opener with the wine cork from our very last bottle of wine in our home.

The first set of pot & pans I bought for us. $18 at Family Dollar. Big spender.

The waffle maker (now defunct because of mold) that I used to make Phoenix waffles every morning when he could eat real food.

The can opener I “stole” from my parents house when I moved out.

And I’m packing all of this stuff up again. I’m tossing some of it into the trash because it’s beyond repair. I’m putting some of it back in boxes. Some of it I’m putting in the donate pile.

I’m donating my memories.

Plastic cups with purple daisy’s are just that. A cup to pour liquid into. For me I see the first glass of orange juice Phoenix tried to pick up and drink.

What makes a home? Is it all the things filled in your kitchen. The throw pillows.

The laughter wafting from the kitchen.

The quiet snores drifting down the halls at night.

The towels you first bought together.

The books sitting on your night stand.

The blanket tossed over your intertwined feet during a movie.

The welcome mat in the front hall.

All of my memories both good & bad packed away. Tossed away. Living along someone elses counters.

My things. My memories. My home.

All of the matter in my home holds my memories.

My memory will hold all the things that matter. And that is what will be our home.

Linked up at What is home? for Life After the Fire