Potholders and Poetry

I was up at 5:45 this morning, a pair of knees in my back and my covers being twisted and pulled this way and that. Same as any other day, really, except today there was a sudden realization that gifts were squirrelled away waiting to be opened. Elliot ran downstairs to find his cleverly hidden gift and soon he was leaping back up the stairs to me with Owen close on his heels.

Elliot had made me a potholder and painted a beautiful tulip for me. Owen had made me a straw basket and written me a poem. I am so very very lucky. Thanks, boys!

Feathers and Light

You are like a light in a dark room,

The light is hope,

Lighting my way to the future,

the perfect division of ancestors,

Like light divides into colors.

A feather acts as it wants as you act on stage,

Flowing with the wind,

Going where the future tells,

Like a prized feather,

Soft is your heart.

I love you mom!!

-Owen