Thanks for this Blessed Life...or Just Another Friday

perfecting the art of sipping cocoa

It might have been a bad idea to let Bailey and me out on the town together.  Even on rainy days (or perhaps, especially, on rainy days) we find our way into some kind of adventure.  Some days it takes some time spent coloring and reading together before the day is deemed ready to start. Today the air was cold.  Getting ready, rolling out of bed and looking the day in the face took some effort--it called for leggings, for boots and slippery raincoats.  In the end we were greatly rewarded in our search for the best puddles from here to The Demel where Bailey received yet another lesson in the proper way to sip hot cocoa.  She flitted around from seat to seat in her sock-covered feet while we waited for our check.  Suited back up in our rain gear, we picked a surprise from The Demel shop for sister.  Even if she's not with us, we're still thinking of her.  Bailey insisted on carrying the lavender Demel bag the rest of the morning. We checked on the Lipizzaner horses and found them suiting up in a carriage.  Bailey shouts: "Fiaker! Fiaker! Ridin' a horsey!"

checking on her horses

She requests a ride on my belly and snuggles into me as we walk down new-found streets and old familiars on our way to the Museums Quartier.  By the time we're on the U-Bahn my baby is fast asleep.  People notice my wide load and make way, covert smiles on their faces.  I wonder what memories this girl's sweet sleeping face brings them.  We ride the train, we walk, we ride some more.  I kiss her head.  I smile to myself.

running around the UN fountain

She wakes up, ready to take on the world.  Demanding to splash through as many puddles as she can find on the way to find sister, her treasured surprise clutched all the while in her little fist. 

Sisters reunite!  There are smiles and hugs and kisses, stories and beaming smiles.  They share their chocolate surprise, because there's no way they could possibly wait.  Then it's time to run to see Papa at his work--down the streets and up the stairs, through security and around the fountain.  Sisters run to his big, strong arms, yelling: "Papa!  Papa!  I so glad a-see you!!"  We hug and kiss and maybe fit in a little lunch.  Papa lets his big girl pick out a book at the commissary called "Stories from the Ballet" and promises to be home soon.  We hug and kiss some more before running again into the rain, onto the train where we read about Romeo and Juliet, The Nutcraker and Swan Lake.  It is crowded and the entire train car is listening to our stories, looking at the pictures with my girls.  We hold hands, riding elevators and escalators, running to the trolley.  We make it home where we cuddle up for a movie.  Bailey asks for Pokey-hontas. We watch John Smith and Pocahontas fall in love and when I'm asked to make popcorn, I always say yes.

I'm finally getting this gas range thing down

We fill our afternoon with snuggles, reading books and playing silly games, counting down the minutes until our little foursome will be reunited for the weekend.

I wonder if these are the memories that will flow through my mind years from now when I smile at sleeping babes in their mothers' arms.  Will I remember the kisses and the popcorn?  The cocoa and the puddles?

This, Lord.  This is why I write.  When I am too old to remember, I want to be able to read this and know it is not a fairy tale about someone else's life. It is mine.  And You gave this to me--this blessed life.