just fine

She labors with some elaborate setup on the couch. Her mind works hard to capture every detail. Some sort of camping setup that springs from her small memories and looks forward to our adventures this week. She moves to the table to create some necessary piece to the puzzle. The tape, the pencils, and the scissors...the scraps, the singing, and the concentration.

He is working hard to tape up a plastic bag to inflate with the air pump. She did it yesterday and today he wants to try. He is patient and calm and cautious and thinking. She takes a break from creating to come and assist...directing the tape placement. He lets her. He eventually tires of this and begins to "blow up the house" instead.

She carries a pillow two-thirds her height. She sets up her own camping bed on the floor...taking ownership of the tiny sleeping bag her grandma once made for her beloved older sister. She arranges and shifts and positions her blankets and pillows. She squeals with delight as she gets both her legs into the sleeping bag cover all on her own.

My heart is full this morning. No plans, just being together. The best kind of morning. All completely absorbed...moving in and out of togetherness. I watch. I listen. I pause to appreciate these lives that didn't exist roughly six, four, and two years ago. My children. I am happy. I am complete. I am crying. She spies me from the couch and her eyes pause to read my emotions. I smile to tell her I'm just fine.