Snapshots of Happiness
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“Mop”
The evening air is still, no breeze, just bugs floating in heavy clouds around our heads. Sean is mowing the grass and June wanders aimlessly with a pot and a stick that she likes to call “mop.” Over and over again she says, “mop, mop, mop” despite our attempts to get her to say “pot” or “stick”. This word, “mop” is used inside when she is pretend baking, as well. I have taken it to mean something like, “stir” or “bake”. All day long, we hear “mop, mop, mop”. And this evening, as I sit in the garden bed, pulling weeds and unwanted grasses, she sings it to me, “mop,…
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Snapshots of Happiness
**One everyday photo, one sentence. A challenge to myself to remember this season of mundane yet happy moments that collectively become my story. Her mom stops what she is doing to look out the window, while she and Dad converse on the hammock, this quiet moment defining their young relationship. With joy and vigor, she has pulled the books from the shelf and all of the toys from their baskets as well: this mess a symbol of her health and spirit. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she thought, “I want to go up there” and so she did, without permission or trial. I scribble a grocery list…