Lately the urge for future things has grown stronger. Case in point: While on my way to get my hair cut this morning, I drove past the cutest little Arts&Crafts-style bungalow. There standing on the front porch was a man holding his baby boy as he discovered the new numbers on the front of the house, running his tiny little fingers across the grooves and layers of paint. My heart skipped and a pang resounded in the deepest parts of me. And for a moment, impatient hope ran a muck as I daydreamed about my future family -- about the still faceless dark-haired man, the one who haunts me in my scarce dreams and of the tiny ones I'll carry and hold...
They say that Spring stirs something in you, that it awakens the soul and warms the heart that ran cold all winter. I'm starting to think they (whoever they are) may be on to something.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Ho-Hummage
I sit here in Fido on a rainy Sunday afternoon staring out at Hillsboro Village, watching as couples clutch each other under umbrellas while cars slosh by.
There's something so calming about rainy days. Something so blissfully relaxing. Maybe it's in the way raindrops dance on the pavement. Or in the way they collect and flow ever so slowly. Streams against sidewalks.
It's the sort of day that makes you want to curl up by a fire, book in hand, warm cider at the ready.
----
I spent a few hours this afternoon watching a handful of toddlers and infants while their parents mingled at an introductory event for a group trip our church is sponsoring this fall. While watching the kiddies, the lone boy, 8-month old Charles, fell asleep resting on my shoulder.
It's captivating the way a baby will so trustingly lay his tired little head on your shoulder, right in the crook of your neck. The way his little hands pulse and gently grasp onto the strands of your hair. The sweet sighs and suckling sounds that come softly as he drifts off to Wonderland.
Holding him then, watching him as he slept so peacefully, I thought about the little ones I'll have one day. And of the family I would like to have.
There's something so calming about rainy days. Something so blissfully relaxing. Maybe it's in the way raindrops dance on the pavement. Or in the way they collect and flow ever so slowly. Streams against sidewalks.
It's the sort of day that makes you want to curl up by a fire, book in hand, warm cider at the ready.
----
I spent a few hours this afternoon watching a handful of toddlers and infants while their parents mingled at an introductory event for a group trip our church is sponsoring this fall. While watching the kiddies, the lone boy, 8-month old Charles, fell asleep resting on my shoulder.
It's captivating the way a baby will so trustingly lay his tired little head on your shoulder, right in the crook of your neck. The way his little hands pulse and gently grasp onto the strands of your hair. The sweet sighs and suckling sounds that come softly as he drifts off to Wonderland.
Holding him then, watching him as he slept so peacefully, I thought about the little ones I'll have one day. And of the family I would like to have.
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