Sunday, April 29, 2007

at the end of the day

On lazy, beautiful days, with all the windows open, and nothing important to do, I feel like my children have really lived when they turn their bathwater brown.

They smell like sunshine, they are sticky with sweat and they are filthy. They have imagined, they have run, they have jumped, swung and dug in the dirt. They have been children, without a care in the world.

Those are the days that I feel like I've done this mothering thing right.

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