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Walking in the rain around the quad at UR with my sweetie. Splashing in puddles on purpose after escaping the heat of a dorm room without AC during a muggy Richmond spring. Wearing my new red tank top, which he loved.
Escaped to my parents’ house when we lost power due to Hurricane Isabel. My daddy, sister, beloved, and I, singing around our antique piano, the oil lamp lit because they lost power soon after we got there. Four part harmony never sounded so sweet as that night, when we sang hymns.
Our first bed-and-breakfast experience. I kidnapped my hubby and took him to the Great Metropolis of Fayetteville, Tennessee. We watched March Madness while I crocheted and the owner brought us fresh strawberry bread and coffee. Exquisite.
I held my baby to my breast for the first time and reveled in the deep magic that is childbirth. I first felt the insane love required of motherhood.
Last night I hugged my daughter to me tightly. She was wearing just a white cloth diaper and white socks, perfect in her near-naked state. I felt her warm skin and thought about how she would never be just this size again.
Upstairs, later, I read her Max, the Bad-Talking Parrot for the first time. In pencil, on the cover, is scribbled “Jessica’s favorite book.” She calmly sat and listened, drank milk quietly and sweetly from my body, and drifted to sleep.