I'm cleaning off the desk. It would be much more efficient to start a small, contained fire, but don't tell our insurance company I said that. I stumble across a yellow sheet of note paper. It reads:
9:20
9:28
9:32
9:41
9:49
9:54
10:02
10:15
10:23
10:40
10:47
10:51
10:59
This was late July or early August of 2009. I spent my evenings resting my weary feet, watching Monk, and timing contractions.
Sweet Ainsley was on her way, but in no great hurry to arrive.
2 comments:
Isn't it funny to find scraps of paper that encapsulate some other moment of time? It reminds me that the only reality is now - but at the same time I often feel I've been magically transported to Then...
Christine - Smells will transport me in a flash. Pine trees = Northern Michigan. Salt = the beach. Witch Hazel = childbirth. I wonder if Heaven will include perfect recall of our best moments.
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