I can't promises you anything though, the draft process has just started, the kids are sleeping, and the wine is good, reeeeal good. I just might take that running leap before the night's end…
Commencing with today's writing…
If I were to stake clam on any room in our house, other than the kitchen, dinning room, living room, master bathroom, or porch (yes, I'm considering that a room), it would most definitely be the bedroom…more specifically
It's the place that is randomly congregated to throughout the day, because it provides the bed that is so inviting to be bounced in, rolled over, snuggled down, and danced on.
Nothing is better than waking up to the ever constant rotation of the night's residence. Gaining my day's energy, by breathing in Josephine's heart beat, with my lips lightly pressed to her ever closing soft spot on the top of her head, while her slumbered breathing stirs during the morning hours. I kiss, kiss, kiss, knowing the spot will soon be gone and covered with hair, but it's not yet, so I kiss, kiss, kiss while I can.
At least once a day I sit on the edge of the bed, watching Calvin jump with the same amount of control as a one legged moose running. It makes me a nervous wreck, but I laugh uncontrollably, in that baited breath kind of way. I burt out in a cackle, but stop abruptly, hold my breath, convinced this is the jolt that will send him to the floor, through the wall, out the window, but it doesn't, he lands with his feet deeper in the mattress steadying himself and laughs, and so do I.
At night, I know half the stories Wesley tells, while nestled in when we escaping away during the day's end to do our nightly reading, are elaborated on for the sheer reason of prolonging bed time. I listen, ask the appropriate questions during the appropriate times, doing my part in the bed time avoidance myself. He talks, I listen, but my mind wanders and eyes trace his face. How has he gotten so big so fast? Where is the Wesley that use to sleep cradled in my arms all night, and jumping on the bed all day? That Wesley has turned into a boy who now needs time away from us all, hunkered in his room, with music in his ears. Needing time away from his brother who can be so annoying, sister who wont leave any of his stuff alone, and parents… because they are his parents. I find it hard not to resist the change, the gained independents that's fast approaching, but for now, wizard talk with a too fast growing boy, it is.
I really am far more in love with my bedroom than any sane person should be. I'm sure in the near future, I will put more thought behind this attached emotion to a room, in a house, that is our home, but that time isn't now. Right now what I know is, for those reason's alone, it's pretty plan to see, why I love this room so much, and claiming it as my very own… it's indeed, where the magic happens...
(No Pilot's "It's Magic" streaming into your brain?… You're welcome!!)