Today has been a weirdly easy day.
Text messages from my husband that say:
I want you to know that I'm obsessed with you. I want you to know that, right now, I'm pacing around my office and these hallways like a prisoner, desperately trying to figure out a way to come home to my wife. I know that somewhere, you're talking in funny voices and struggling through the aisle of a toy store feeling more like a mom than a human being, like some sort of machine that is only designed to give and give. But I want you to know that, right this very minute, there is somebody who is only thinking of you as you. I'm thinking about how brilliant you are, how you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, heard of or dreamed. I want you to know how it would be an honor to be next to you, right now. I can't sit still for missing you.
Grey at my temples.
Sleeping babies. I'm trying not to move or make a sound.
Open window, traffic and sunlight and an open book propped on my bare knees.
Not thinking about the hole in the ceiling. Incredibly kind people are coming tomorrow to have a look and hopefully fix it.
It's even Friday, isn't it? I even have a cold. I've only set foot outside today to go to a store to buy my nephew a present.
Maybe it's this surprise nap time.
I don't know, but this day has summer written all over it.