i love my life.

i love my messy house with it's worn floors and creaky doors.

i love my comfy red couch with stories, pennies, and crackers tucked into its folds.

i love my raggle~taggle~muffin crew of chairs surrounding my covered glass table.

i love the mountains of books,

                                    the mountains of dishes, 

                                                                  the mountains of laundry.

i love the crayons, broken and tucked into every corner,

the papers covered by impish markings,

                                                the beginnings of stories written by shaky hands,

                                                                                                               and the tender designs of newly born worlds.

i love the dirty sinks and the mirror covered in toothpaste.

i love the perpetual stain that runs the length of my entire house, at child's hand level, showing exactly where they've tarried.

i love my fridge filled with yogurt and cheese sticks.

i love my white trash backyard covered in toys and plants, the grave to countless spoons and cups.

i love the prickly, overgrown garden state:

the fresh tilled earth,

                       the heaping compost pile,                                                                        

                                                   the vines growing into the spaces between.

i love our big, red sheds housing our memories.

i love our trampoline and the hours logged there,

                                                         the muscles in my children's legs,

                                                                                                the laughter shared.

i love the trees growing into the sky:

the haven they provide my children in their sturdy branches,

                                                                 the leaves that shade innocent play,

                                                                                                          the birds that sing us lullabies.

i love the rye grass filled with dandelions and morning glory,

                                                            the wishes angels have released,

                                                                                                   the secrets these blades keep.

i love the rope swing that allows my babes to soar.

i love my hammock, the shared cuddles, the airplanes watched from below.

i love the joy that this life contains.