Out here in the vast Texan wilderness, my girls are screaming around the yard barefoot. My sweet, sweet babies with their little pink toes, falling all over each other, so happy to have a warm day. Peanut butter sides of their sandwiches sticking to the grass, cups of water tipped over on the patio. It almost feels like summer, with the exception of the gingerbread men we're baking with the back door open.
The hammock has been swinging for hours, fine baby hair sticking up with static and wrestle-mess. Dirty knees, popsicle stains...you'd think it was May, but the computer is blasting Christmas carols.
Chalk dust footprints inside the door, jelly spots on the door frame, piles of flip-flops waiting to be forced on. If it weren't for the gold and cream poofy dresses hanging so carefully, it would feel like a pool day.
Unborn baby trying to kick through my bare belly to the sunshine outside, flipping and dancing to the sounds coming from the picnic blanket. If I hadn't been stuffing stockings last night, I'd swear it was almost summer.
After two days of flip-flops and open windows, there isn't a Christmas gift I could unwrap that would be better than the feeling of sunshine on my face. If there's anything I've found recently that I just can't give back, it's Texas.
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1 comment:
Love the imagery. That sounds like the happiest backyard to me!
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