...and here’s a picture of your mom changing the oil in our lawnmower when she was five months pregnant with you. I promise I went to get her gloves the second after I took this picture.
Mother’s day, Mothers day(?) is a pretty special holiday, and this was a pretty special Mother’s day. Abby’s first and it was a good one. Her mom and sister came out to the country, and my sister too, and my mom, and my dad and my sisters boyfriend.
We ate quiche and walked from stone to stone and there was vague talk about a baby shower; talk that’ll have to get less vague in a hurry.
As we all retreated to our naps, the way I remember the adults doing circa 1996 Montréal, I thought about how this is it. This is the second version of this in my lifetime, the second of three, if I’m lucky.
It was a lazy and beautiful day and not too much was done, but we did eat a lot. It’s the sort of Sunday that feels like a Wednesday in the midst of a week off. I feel like there oughta be a way to extend that metaphor into explainaing how these days feeling like summer more broadly.
We ate quiche and walked from stone to stone and there was vague talk about a baby shower; talk that’ll have to get less vague in a hurry.
As we all retreated to our naps, the way I remember the adults doing circa 1996 Montréal, I thought about how this is it. This is the second version of this in my lifetime, the second of three, if I’m lucky.
It was a lazy and beautiful day and not too much was done, but we did eat a lot. It’s the sort of Sunday that feels like a Wednesday in the midst of a week off. I feel like there oughta be a way to extend that metaphor into explainaing how these days feeling like summer more broadly.
The few dozen post holes I’ve got to dig remain marks on paper and not callouses on my palms.