(thirteen) April 2008. My favorite place in our house is right here. Pick a bed, pick a reading lamp, pick a book, pick a shoulder. Tonight we read The Polar Express, I’m not sure what the title was on this particular night in the photo. We never miss a night of this. We read to F, we read beside (and sometimes to) E, we read next to each other in bed before we both fall asleep. I’m up late tonight – I’ve just wrapped up one final online project, and it’s late. In just a few sentences I’ll stop typing, and then walk around the house, turning off reading lamps as I go. No matter how the day goes, no matter what challenges it may bring, we always have this. The girls transform overnight, each night; I rub my eyes in disbelief each morning as I rouse their giant bodies out of bed. But they transform again each night into a mop of bath-damp hair, the scent of bubble mint and baby soft skin, the deepening sighs and heavy lids. The only price is a story, and we’re rich as thieves in them.
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advent (home) / one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve
I often marvel, “who is this huge person” when I wake Corinne in the morning. It astounds me that I used to be able to hold her in one arm.
It’s very obvious when you see their limbs splayed across the bed, for sure.
wonderful, wonderful, my friend.
“The only price is a story, and we’re rich as thieves them”. I began reading your blog for the photos, and stayed for the writing. I’m enjoying this daily photo post.
Thank you.
Love this! We do too. Must have been instilled in us…
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These are all so sweet, but this one is especially touching.
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