A quick moment in the bedroom to stand in the afternoon sun. The kids have broken both tripods. You wouldn’t know it, because you can’t see it behind me, that there is a toddler jumping on the bed and about to whack his noggin on the headboard, or that there is a terrier beneath this frame looking up at me, barking about a filthy, soggy tennis ball at my feet. Or that the only pattern I feel this week is really he lack thereof in each day, as we stumble awkwardly towards fall: meeting teachers, new shoes, dental appointments, last-minute camping, knots in stomach and lumps in throat.
More patterns at SPC.
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