I taught the
twins to give “Eskimo kisses.” Levi
leans in, all serious, and clasps my head in his hands, one on either
side. Then he swipes his tiny
nose side to side against my own. It is
unbearably cute.
Isaiah has
become a prolific kisser, especially when it comes to prolonging the bedtime
routine. He also grabs hold, wrapping
his arms around my neck and planting three, four, loud smacking kisses on my
cheek. When he wants a hug he says, “Me
take hug,” like he’s taking a dose of children’s ibuprofen, a little something
sweet to get him through the night.
“Me lovin’
you,” I whisper to Isaiah as he rides on my hip, high and happy.
“Me lovin’ you,”
I say my words brushing past Levi’s ear as he hangs from my neck like a
monkey.
//
Last night
as my husband and I sat watching TV, the loveliest breeze kept creeping
unexpectedly through the window. Cool
and fresh, it caressed us and I couldn’t refrain from commenting on it every
time.
Sitting by
the front window in the morning, thrown open to the morning’s coolness, another
breeze pulls me away again and again from the laptop’s screen. The gentle air turns my head toward the
mountains and in it somehow I sense the presence of God.
That breeze
grabs hold of me, all serious and light at the same time, like the voice of God
whispering, “Me lovin’ you,” and I drink it in with body and soul, a dose of
something sweet, like Love, to get me through another day, another night.
This post is linked with Five Minute Friday on the prompt “Whisper.”
