I pulled in the driveway this morning from taking the girls to school. I spotted a bird at the tip-top of the neighbor’s oak, perched and ready to fly away. I couldn’t move to go inside and yet didn’t have a reason to stay either. I waited until he swooped into our yard, his movement sparking my own.
As I sat, I thought of the week, ready to call it a terrible one, and yet couldn’t. It’s been a week of highs—friends visiting from out of town last-minute, sharing a table of new recipes and family gathering around to celebrate births. But it’s been a hard one too—unexpected ER visits, stomach viruses, tears of fear and longing for friends. It hasn’t been terrible, but it has been terribly high and low—a week of through sickness and health, till death do us part and stripes of motherhood sewn on.
I sit at the top like the neighbor’s bird–waiting, perched and ready to fly.