saturday


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I live in the AZ. It’s supposed to be hot. But I’m sitting in the AZ and my A/C has given up and it’s a Saturday, and apparently the A/C guys don’t work on the weekend. In Arizona. Go figure.

So I’m sitting here, surrounded by laundry that has been folded and is threatening to overtake my living room, with no plans of putting it away. There are teeny tiny t shirts on the coffee table. Loud soccer socks on the kitchen table. And I’m just sitting here, sweating, surrounded.

I don’t want to put it away.

My husband is sleeping on the couch, and the ceiling fan is turning lazily overhead. My self proclaimed tween is playing Adam Levine over and over and over again. The boy is at at a marathon playdate next door. I’m worried the parents feel taken advantage of, but am not worried enough to go check. I’m sure it’s fine.

There are doctor appointments and fall festivals and costumes that need to be bought piling up into next week. But I’m pushing them away.

Because right now, right this very moment, it’s still. My babies will never be this young again. There’s no arguing. The television is off and it’s three in the afternoon on a Saturday. Two out of three of my people are within an arms reach of me.  There is a roof over my head and insurance cards in my pocket and food in my fridge.

And for now, that’s enough.

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