His tiny fingers wrap around my arm.
The contrast of white against brown startles me into momentarily wondering about the origins of this beautiful child.
He is another unfinished project, like the boards of the deck, half-way painted before being abandoned by a rain shower.
The splatters of paint on my feet are reminders of the job that still begs to be finished along with the dishes, mopping and yet another load of laundry.
Where is the time? And where does it go?
I have the same 24 hours in a day and somehow it passes through my hands like sand in a sieve, constantly flowing until suddenly there is not a grain or a minute left.
I know that everything will get done, eventually, but it won’t be today.
Today, I would much rather push trucks across the carpet with Little Legs and hold Baby when he cries, share a snack of applesauce and blow the white fluff of a dandelion into the hot summer air.
Today, the time goes where I want because I’m the boss.
I’m the mama.