Body and Soul

A marching band consisting of Scully and Gigi beat loudly, hand and foot, while my sister scraped uneaten portions of a cereal bar from the bottom of her feet. She was cleaning the nursery while I was running around getting ready to do my readings.

"It must be Friday," my husband joked.

Fridays are insane even when my reading load is relatively light: the logistics of childcare before, during and after readings; ironing Scully's clothes for work (I know, I should do it earlier), cleaning the house to make it presentable while picking up constantly after a two-year-old bundle of energy.

Even in the motion, activity and noise, I was able to stop and think: They are the reason that I do everything.