The day began with rain. Not the violent kind from a few weeks ago, but the soft kind that calls for standing in doorways and inhaling the petrichor. It was the kind of day that called for extra coffee, for laughter at Study Hall between work, for a gluten free macaroon around 2pm, and later after the rain let up and the sky spread with sun, for heaps of texts sent back and forth, things sorted, aligned, mapped out for tomorrow. It was the kind of day that found me arriving hungry at the doorway of home, to be greeted to the smell of Indian chicken with kale and sweet red peppers, fresh mango, cucumbers and rose; and also the sweet embrace of Sprout who always comes running when I return. A hero's welcome. "Mommy!" He exclaims, his entire body dancing with delight. He wraps his arms around my neck. After dinner, the day softened. In the gloaming light we moved to the backyard, sipping beer and rose, watching the boys play under blankets and the dog catch bugs. Then, after stories with the boys (Bean and I are reading the second Mary Poppins book, after a lovely diversion into the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakenwhiler, which was a truly fantastic read, and for sure one of my favorites this year) I slipped off for a while to listen to music, paint my nails, and mull over projects. Every day, every single day the hours run out far sooner than my ambition. I'm grateful for this, even as I always feel myself fall short. Grateful to wake up hungry and eager for the day, and also to find myself at the other side of the day, still hungering for this sweet life, this work, these words, these hours.