What I Want to Remember 2.13.22
The feeling of Reid’s hand on my chest when he nurses.
How all of a sudden, seemingly overnight, I can’t see the traces of baby or toddlerhood in Royce’s face anymore.
The way Maggie giggles and flings her head back with pure glee when Levi “hogs on it” in the side-by-side.
How hard a minute of running can feel. How delighted a 20 min walk/run can make me.
The notes and pictures and cards Royce leaves around the house for us.
Tiny indications that my body is finally, finally healing. A walk/run that doesn’t cause a headache. A Peloton ride that leaves me breathless, but triumphant. Catching Maggie without pain when she leaps into my arms after preschool.
The way Maggie calls it “Ballerina Day” instead of Valentine’s Day.
How the sun can warm my face even as the cool air makes my cheeks and fingers tingle.
The way a February false Spring day feels.
How Reid nuzzles his face into my neck when I rock him in the night.
The way Royce hugs Maggie goodbye in the car line every morning.
How ticklish Reid is. His giggle. His obsession with sticking his tongue out and how hilarious he finds it when I stick mine out back.
