#iam30

Spring. Change. It gets me every time. The beauty, the fleeting nature of the cherry trees. The knowledge that they are so much like real life. Fleeting. Mist. Vapour. Beautiful.

We are in the midst of unspeakable change in our lives. Change that is inevitable and bearing down on us quickly. Change that we cannot foresee or know the outcome of. We are waiting. Remembering that this shift, too, is fleeting. A moment.

A friend said today that he was "spilling over his edges." I do that everyday day. Tears. Fears. Fullness each time I look at Sky.

Spring and Fall alike bring into my view all that I have lived through so far and all that I live with and without now. People, places and faces. Moments, good and bad gone by. Transitions make me look back. And looking back brings such great bittersweetness.

This morning some of my hair got caught in the crossfire of my son's projectile. I thought long and hard about whether the few hairs that dipped in his spit up were worth washing all my hairs. Reason won out. A high bun covers a multitude of sins (thank you, ballerina days! Even if my face does look insufferably round with my hair pulled back). The sheets, changed yesterday because of a different projectile incident, caught just a bit of the vomit. Certainly not enough to warrant another change; another load of laundry washed strategically between the rainy days we are having to ensure they have enough time to dry. I didn't miss having a dryer until baby came.