...that there's dishes in the sink and fingerprints on the fridge and a steady stream of muddy laundry from a pack of boys who love the out-of-doors regardless of the the state of the ground. And let's not even get started on the son who tried to recreate the St. Louis Arc with a certain body fluid while standing on the back porch.
All this not much after the coffee finished brewing this morning.
The days run together and the groceries run out and by the time the evening clock ticks eight, I'm right cooked. Well done to be precise.
And the to-do list goes wayward and the to-try list is a joke and you can just forget about anything else, especially if it includes time behind a bathroom door with a pair of tweezers or tapping out keys for a little thing called a blog.
But then you catch a boy's face, tongue out, elbow deep in markers and the Spider Man filled in purple, and the pang of time's quick passing catches you.
You remember how he used to say peen-jay instead of peanut butter and jelly and when his legs weren't so long and when he most certainly couldn't fill his own water cup.
So you take the picture and you purpose...be it imperfect, uninspired, unedited, undone...you will write some of it down. For the days go by just way too fast for it to be any other way.