This morning, despite the looming deadlines I’m attempting to tame with schedules and to-do lists, Michael and I took a moment to let the chicks wander out of the run and into the barren, fog enshrouded garden. And each time I started to say that I needed to go back to work I took a breath instead of speaking. This lasted for maybe ten minutes, but probably more like five.

Then we returned to the house, drank our smoothies, and chatted about our schedules for the day.

Now I’m cozy in my office with my writing buddy Parker spread out on the desk to the right of me. I can just barely hear Michael playing guitar, and singing quietly, while he writes a new song downstairs in the dining room. And, after I cross a few things off the to-do list, I’m going to fill the afternoon with words scribbled on paper … just as they occur to me.

This is this moment.

I breathe. I type. I sip my hot chocolate.

Tomorrow will be completely different in a hundred almost imperceptible ways.

It’s a lovely life.

Thank you for being apart of it.