dad sat catacorner from me at the breakfast table and most days he halved a papaya the long way, scooped out seeds like a trove of black pearls. this is what i think of watching the sun climb this morning: the creamy orange-pink of papaya flesh, and my dad, smiling over his spoon.
a little late this week, but still thankful:
for parents who smiled
for a doctor who calls to chat about my child's health like she has all the time in the world for us
for the joy that is my pre-k class, and especially the child who prayed, 'dear God, thank you for me'
for baby bumps
for sidewalk canvases
for small-people quilts
for library books
and for hearts that hold on
Her Own Friends
13 hours ago