a walk with the lady

the girls have been sleeping peacefully for nearly three hours and the house is quiet. i should go to bed but since when does anything worthwhile come without a little sacrifice? a little less sleep never killed anyone, though it has nearly cost me my sanity. 

the lady and i took a walk today. she may have trekked up the street, thrown rocks, climbed cinder blocks, picked flowers, ran, and watched a street cleaner go down the street with intense curiosity. but not me. i went into her little world and stayed there and didn't dare budge.

i've lost all hope that i can look at photographs of my children and not weep. in awe of who they are, in sadness for how far they will venture from my side, and in humility for how they look at me with such unyielding love and devotion.

i could curl up and sleep in her wispy locks. i could press my cheek to hers just plain forever and never tire of the scent of her skin or the writhing she would do to be free of my clutching grasp. 

we live in a world that winds faster and faster with every breath. but time stops dead in it's tracks when this little lady stands there and i open my eyes.