This week is a new week. I am breathing more deeply. I am cooking. I bought a new planner. The weather is windy and on the verge of stormy. Yellow blossoms are climbing the hills. California poppies, the color of golden afternoon concentrated and glowing, pepper strips of gardens along the sidewalk. Eden doesn't need diapers during the day. Silas is 4.
After hemming and hawing, I decided not to travel east this week, after all. The decision felt all ways -- heart-breaking and life-giving together. I miss, already, Washington stretching into 70 degree warmth; streets lined with cherry blossoms, a lacy fairyland; walking with my mom under branches raining petals; eating the Tuesday special sandwich from Bradley Food & Bev.; a trip home. And flying for my birthday to New York -- picnics at the park, late night glasses of wine, cousin bliss --
But the decision to slow down for a while was right and needed. So I'm settling into the cloudy moony night, grateful to be home waiting for a baby boy's birth, for Good Friday quiet. Saturday my sister will come and help us tuck eggs into buckets and bushes on the deck. And Sunday, we'll all celebrate the brightest day of the year.