art is always real

We were in Julie’s room one night, my eldest daughter and I.  I wanted to show her how the canvas painting she had carefully labored over for Julie’s Christmas gift was framed and hung on the wall. I said, gazing at her masterpiece with no small amount of motherly pride, …

sleepless

Tossing and turning in bed at night.  I’m keeping her awake again, I know.  She always sleeps easy, slips into dreamland with the ease of someone who has finished her days work and is satisfied by it. In the middle of a sentence sometimes, her breathing changes and I know …