Alliterative Awakenings

So much happened yesterday and last week.  Mulitudes of months, it seems, have passed without any blog documentation to remind me not to forget.

I keep thinking I will write all these things that might be important for my children to know or remember one day.  I will do it.  One day.  When I get time.

Impossible.  I would need 4 times the TIME allotted to every human soul just to note each loved ones’ expression, to remember Uncle William’s turn of phrase and exactly how that story went, to relive a particular dinner time conversation, to dawdle over how to capture Prairie’s expressive voice in typed print.  Um, make that 10 times.

I have not been able to figure out how to LIVE life while writing about it at the same time. 

I think this is a good thing.  I think it means my cup overflows.  Writing is a slowing down, that forces me to see what is GOOD and TRUE rather than letting my eyes skim over, UNseeing, the hands on the piano keyboard, the little pink lips moving, practicing new reading skills,  the child reciting his multiplication tables.

Right now, I am snatching a small piece of time to remember one small thing . . . . . . .

my boys sitting at the table, tired, unfocused, disinterested in language arts with good ‘ole Mama,  the push to get them to spit out words beginning with t . . . . .a spark in their eyes, the words coming faster than I can write them on the chalkboard, the laughter while while we take turns constructing alliterative sentences.  I stand on the mountaintop when one boy tries to talk over his brother, so eager to share another sentence and another.  The child who writes 3 sentences when asked to write one.

It is a good day.

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