Oh. Warm little baby hand on my chest as I write. Dreaming-baby breath on my chest. Birds and squirrels everywhere in the front yard. A riot of yellow leaves and fluttering birds. Joanna Newsom playing somewhere else in the house. Clover Meadow sleeping on the ottoman. The light rain falling. The past two days have been mostly just about us; our visitors have started to disperse and we are finding our daily rhythm alone together. Andy is home for six weeks. He has skipped more than a few vacations over many years to save up that much time off. It's so awesome, so very awesome to be able to have him here at home right now. (Actually, right now he's at the store. But, yeah.) I have the window behind me open. The air is cool and damp and gray, with birdsong and wet pavement sounds. My prayers go out to everyone on the East Coast who has been affected by superstorm Sandy.
Thank you so much for all of your incredibly kind comments these past two weeks. My heart is so full of your words and wishes. Thank you. Thank you also for commenting on Amelia's name, but I can't take credit for that! It was definitely a group effort. Her birthfather wanted her to have four names (first, two middle, last). Her birthmother picked Amelia; we picked Beatrix; and then her birthmother picked Jolene. I think they are all beautiful names and I love how her whole name came together with something from each of us.
We had our first walk up to the bakery the other day. The weather was gorgeous — cool and crisp and the leaves blazing bright. It was the first time I'd been out of the house just for whatever-time in weeks, really! I carried her in the Moby (which is where she spends most of her day) and it felt so good to stretch my legs. I think she loved it, too. Andy walked the dog with a bottle in his back pocket, just in case. We got chais and wandereded through our familiar streets together. People smiled at us, which felt strange and wonderful. We smiled back. Walked slow. Crunching leaves. No rush. No rush at all.