From the archives-- originally posted January 2006
It's 7:43 a.m.
The lumbering yellow school bus has already come
and gone from our street-- thirty-two minutes ago.
My children are, for the moment, oblivious to this event.
They are still warm in their beds,
dreaming,
growing,
getting strength for the day ahead.
Christmas has come and gone, too,
for most Americans—nine days ago.
But, in the gray dawn of this morning
the tiny tree next to my bed still glows,
and I'm thinking of the coming celebration
of the epiphany.
The feast continues.
I pull on a sweater, pad to the kitchen and back,
pile up the pillows, and sip from the steaming mug
in my hands.
My husband has left me a fresh pot of coffee
and a note:
"Luv U, Mrs. Collins!"
And I love you, Husband and Friend.
Today, like every day, is a blank page.
How will we fill it?
~with French toast and lingonberries
~with the usual chores that keep our home
fresh and comfortable
~with reading and talking,
thinking and writing,
working a few math problems
~by making music and art
~by doing a few errands at the (now quiet) mall—
remembering to stop for tea time in the process
Later, holding hands around the supper table,
we will offer simple, thankful prayers.
Yes, it's 7:43 a.m. and it's going to be
a very good day.
Folks say to me: "I don't know how you do it.
I'd go nuts being with my kids all day!"
And I just smile and say, "Yeah, I must be crazy." | 