From Where I Stand

it’s 5:15pm and from where i stand, it’s hard to believe that in less than two hours the house will be quiet and clean. i’m leaning against our tall table in the kitchen, scraping up the last spoonfuls of squash and green beans for london. cruz asks me to turn on some music and soon we’re dancing in the kitchen. london giggles and giggles, smearing squash all over her high chair. a client calls and i laughingly try to shush everyone while i answer her question. as soon as i hang up the phone, tovi calls to say that practice went late, but that he’s on his way home. “yes!” we cheer.

we’re waiting for the rain to come.

i change the song and cruz asks me about the lyrics. he’s full of questions these days. “why did they say ‘poor and powerless’ mommy?” “how can i be your same height?” “why does london eat smashed food?”

london chats and chats to us. “nananananana. mamamamama.” i cut up some turkey for cruz and put his strawberries into a special cup, just like he asks.

it’s loud, it’s chaotic. our evenings are full of sticky palms and messy floors, sing-a-longs and jokes, and somehow, i hope these are the moments they’ll remember.

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