It's probably too late for me to be posting anything coherent. So, if this is just a scrambled glob of poop go to one of the other posts. There are some really good ones back in November and December.
Today was Bronte's birthday. It's hard to believe that she's already 7. The first thing I thought when I saw her tiny little person was "What a funny little nose she has. She's so beautiful." She does have a funny little nose, and it is beautiful to this day. Her sparkly eyes and quick wit astound. It's an amazing thing to be a mother. It really is.
We went to Barnes and Noble and got decaf coffee for us all. Then Geoffrey and I proceeded to sing loudly (yes, I DID sing in public) to her. She didn't blush. She just smiled and sipped her caramel machiato. What a little princess. We looked at books a bit and they chattered away. It was good. A comfort.
Now, I'm alone and they are off visiting other places as they sleep. The dishwasher is swishing, the computer is humming and the quick clickety clack of the keyboard as I type are all the sounds that keep me company. It's like a strange yet familiar song. It's a good time to take time for me. Thinking. Writing. Dreaming. "We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams." I just realized I'm smiling.
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