preludes to a different nest

It seems oddly fitting that at night when I come upstairs to my rather austere master bedroom (actually it’s not just mine; the four of us sleep in one huge room, I love it) and find my perfectly tidy space now has a small cluster of Legos, toy dinosaurs, and a Christmas bow lying beside my bed with my current reading material (The Golden Compass: His Dark Materials). The little hobgoblins that live here constantly move their projects – drawings, “presents” (items from home Nels gathers up and wraps and gifts us with), comic books (Sophie), nature books (both kids), and clothes scattered here and there after forays outside to check for chicken eggs or play in the backyard with all its new wonders.

I am completely comforted by the presence of my children. Last night they stayed over with my mother; while I thoroughly enjoyed a night with my husband, I also felt a restlessness. It seems backwards; I require them to tuck me in at night and can’t settle easily if they do not do so.

Today in response to a frustrating sewing project we fled out on the Xtracycle; the sunny, fairly warm weather making it a possibility. All too soon the day draws to a close and I scoop laundry, return books to shelves, and try to convince my wee rascals to let me hold them a little while before they sleep.

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