36 of 52 :: portraits of the boys

wanting to linger

i want to linger on this time. this end of summer. 

i want to linger here in sameness. 

linger in the never growing up and never growing old. 

linger in the good days, ignoring the bad. 

i want to linger here, longer.

linger in your milk dewed cries.
linger in the brush of your eyelashes, the tip of your baby skin elbows.
linger on the scent of dirt on your toddling hands, tied deep beneath your nails.
linger in the kitchen, small sous-chef underfoot.
linger in the tripping and the chasing and the hide-and-go seeking.
linger in the washing of hands, and the ordered brushing of teeth.

i want to linger on goodnight kisses.
linger on the stories and the slow turning of pages,
linger on the words that i read aloud each night.
linger on that small space before falling asleep,
                     exhausted from the day, the sun, the laughing and the learning.

i want to linger on this time. the small end of spared space, when you are so very young.

xxoo

autumn bends near

school is in. autumn bends near. 

in the early morning hours,  I forget the colors of Fall, only wanting to linger on the crushed flowered smells of summer. the hot haze. napping house afternoons.

in southern california, autumn arrives, but only in faded colors and muted summer memories. there are moments, in this hot heat and rounding end of summer, that I long for quiet, crisp afternoons, a catch of foggy breath in the morning and the brilliant reds and oranges of the oak and maple.

how are things these days for you?
xxoo