we’re trying not to.

we laid on our bellies
on the old persian rug in the living room
while the rain dripped off the eaves
& we played cards
four-year-old hands small around the deck.
we drank our hot cocoa
swiss miss strewn across the countertop
his with a straw,
mine without.
grown up?
maybe.

we are not busy.
or,
we’re trying not to be.

trying like the dickens to dig in & pay attention,
to fiddle with the transformer i have no time for
arms around his little self in plaid pajamas.
make time for the transformer
those bits i skip
when i rush.

we are not rushing.
or,
we’re trying not to.

this?
this is our life these days
a bit blurry, flying through the air,
all together,
happy.

we are not busy,
we are not rushing.
or,
we’re trying not to.

“Those who are wise won’t be busy,
and those who are too busy can’t be wise.”
― Lin Yutang

thanks for stopping here;  thanks for hanging on to me while i’ve been away.
i’ve missed you, here.

& two claps for my graphic designing husband with the new header, eh?
*clap, clap.
that’s my man!

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