Ordinary Friday.

Nothing like have a sick kid to make life seem abundantly ordinary.

Waking, resting, working, eating.
It's all so simple. 

I ran cool cloths across the back of neck, while we chatted and snuggled under a blanket.
She is 104 degrees and I feel singed at her touch.

Outside, birds fly, the sun is bright.
City life goes on, construction tarries on the sidewalk,
and we sat with limbs lazily stretched, watching movies about Christmas and Santa.

Sometimes, my motherhood life feels extra beautiful.
Sweetened with vision, or energy.
Work is flowing and we move about here in song and dance.

But today, it's coffee that is slightly burned.
Breakfast that is less than average and getting soggy in the bowl.
I suppose it's ordinary times like these that make me feel rich.

If this is where we fall back on when times slow and fall under fevers,
then we are two blessed girls, she and i. 
This is a good place to fall back to.

I have just tucked her in for a nap.
Ray Charles wails on my Spotify.
I am blowing some dust off of my to-do list, cracking my knuckles, shrugging off the slow.

The cup of coffee next to me has cooled, and yet I still sip.
I'm drinking of the ordinary,
and knowing that it's not just me
and it's not forever, 
well, it makes it special, I guess.

Funny how even the ordinary is still beauty.