February is all but behind us. It's a short month, even on a leap year, but its fleetness never fails to catch us off guard. Yet here we are, March bearing down on us like a lion, all teeth and snarl.
We are all tired. E has taken to climbing into the big bed in the early hours of morning and announcing that it's time to get up, time for breakfast, time for Thomas. J usually gets up, cow-heavy like Sylvia Plath, plodding downstairs to pour bowls of cereal and put the coffee on. No one plays trains until the coffee is in hand. This morning E tells J she gets to be Fearless Freddie, chasing Hank around the track. No one can beat Hank, big old strong old Yankee Hanky. Freddie doesn't stand a chance.
J has begun entertaining fantasies of getting on a train, taking a trip, who cares where. Spring Break is coming up. There are 5 days of relative freedom. Such possibility. She could take E. She should take E. It's a two-day trip to Jasper from the mainland. Might be a quick turn-around, but the rockies would be beautiful this time of year. All that snow. The only real issue is the dangerously low bank account. Isn't that always the way? At what point do we just say, the hell with it, let's get on that train and take that trip and make that memory? It may happen yet. Depends on what March brings.
When she's not looking forward to the maybes, J looks back on the golden-green moments she and her boys have already shared. This is a good thing to do when the days are dark on both ends and grey through the middle. Keeps her spirits up. Sitting on the top of a hill with her best buddy, her little man, J feels only the promise of the day, the rightness of the moment, the simplicity of being beside someone you love. This is the gift we all carry, the one we share without knowing it. You next to me. Here.
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