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we're not kids anymore.
Janaina Medeiros
Keni
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shark vs the universe
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styofa doing anything
Love Begins
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@anarttoeverything
I’m beginning to recognize that real happiness isn’t something large and looming on the horizon ahead but something small, numerous and already here. The smile of someone you love. A decent breakfast. The warm sunset. Your little everyday joys all lined up in a row.
Beau Taplin
I’ve been loved in life, but all that matters now is that I’m loved by you.
Abbi Glines
"She could remember what it felt like to cross a room with the weight of his body pressed against her shoulder, the sensation of popping Cheerios into his mouth, one by one."
(J. Courtney Sullivan, "Friends & Strangers")
"They were like kids at the playground, trying to decide whom to play with, and was the conversation worth the fuss? Adults were constantly auditioning, but for what? For the next conversation, for the next conversation, for the next conversation?"
(Alison Espach, The Adults)
He held her hand. Happiness is this, he thought.
Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
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A letter to my son, on Mother’s Day.
I don’t know if I ever really thought too much about what it would feel like to actually be a mom. I didn’t know it would feel like this.
Being your mom feels like I’m done, like this is it, like I’ve found my space and my place.
It’s early mornings, seeing your cheesy smile from between the slats of your crib.
It’s tickling your belly and hearing your huge giggles.
It’s brushing your hair out of your eyes and tucking it behind your seashell ears.
It’s watching you feed yourself, when just months ago you couldn’t even touch your fingers to your lips.
It’s waving at you and getting a cheeky grin and a wild wave back.
It’s lots of kisses on smooth chubby cheeks.
It’s early evening light, a quiet room, the small squeak of the glider as I sing a lullaby and rock you, your warm back rising and falling against my palm, your fists gripping my arms, your cheek against my shoulder.
It feels like joy. It feels like peace.
“To have known somebody all these years, and to have lived this life together, and to have weathered the brutalities of intimacy--it’s a daring thing.”
(Kathryn Grody, via The New York Times)
Nikki Giovanni, from “Adulthood II”
I like to read while sipping a white wine very slowly. Ice cubes in the sweating, stemless glass. I lit all of the candles — summer candles, specifically. Ocean and herb and cactus and mint. In the kitchen, Ben makes the goat cheese, bacon, sweet corn quiche that has become a staple in our household, and listens to a playlist of French music from the 60s that I introduced him to when we were barely dating because I was trying to show off.
The baby is sleeping and I took a walk around the block while it was still light. I swept the front porch and marveled that it was mine. I’m 33 years old, but every time I leave my house I still assume other people are wondering how this young girl bought a home and what in the world she’s doing here.
I still wonder a little bit what in the world I’m doing here, but in a good way most of the time.
“As an unrelenting world spins outside these walls, white noise fills the quiet space where I rock you to sleep. You grow heavier in my arms each day, while my heart both swells and aches. What deep joy you bring us, while so many loving arms are empty. Many miles and miles away, they wait to hold you. With each month that passes, I wonder if and when they ever will. I worry, in our isolation, how you can possibly learn to welcome new people when mine is the only embrace you've ever truly known.
As I cradle you, breathing your intoxicating scent and feeling your downy soft hair against my cheek, your soft body melting into mine, I am overwhelmed with the notion that your daddy and I are the only ones who will ever know you this way. For now, you are ours and ours alone, while we are wholly yours.
How lucky we are to have you, to hold you, and to know the feeling of your body curled up on my chest. To hear the softest snores escape your lips. To kiss your warm skin as I lay you down to sleep. To feel your whole hand wrap around my finger....
If ever there was an antidote for the dark and heaviness of this time—it's you, beautiful boy. My son.
You are our bright spot.”
(”The truth about raising a newborn in quarantine”)
i feel seen
It is the joy of my life to rock my son in my arms and watch his eyelids grow heavier and heavier while we listen to harp lullabies together and the snow falls gently outside.
Every night, Arlo falls asleep in my arms while I feed him, and his eyes close, and his breathing becomes slow and heavy, and milk dribbles out the side of his mouth, and I feel happy to be alive.
“Today's a day like any other But I am changed, I am a mother, oh, in an instant And who I was has disappeared It doesn't matter, now you're here So innocent I was lost for you to find And now I'm yours and you are mine
Two tiny hands, a pair of eyes An unsung melody is mine for safekeeping And I will guard it with my life I'd hang the moon for it to shine on her sleeping Starting here and starting now I can feel the heart of how Everything changes
I didn't know, but now I see Sometimes what is, is meant to be You saved me My blurry lines, my messy life Come into focus in a tied, maybe I can heal, and I can breathe 'Cause I can feel myself believe
Everything changes Oh, my heart's at the wheel now And all my mistakes They make sense when I turn them around...”
(”Everything Changes,” from “Waitress”)
What if you spent your whole life thinking you’re a Jo, only to discover at age 33 that you’re actually a Beth?
“This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping...”
(Taylor Swift, “Soon You’ll Get Better”)
“It's not easy to know I'm not anything like I used to be Although it's true I was never attention's sweet center I still remember that girl
She's imperfect but she tries She is good but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help She is messy but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up And baked in a beautiful pie She is gone but she used to be mine”
(”She Used to Be Mine”)
