Two beautiful moments:
One:
A green, helium-filled balloon, shiny ribbon beckoning behind, floating up tinier and tinier into brightest blue, winter afternoon sky, released from a grubby three-year-old hand, quite merrily, with no ensuing tantrum, as if the three-year-old knew that it was time to let the balloon go, because it had served its purpose, on a day of coughing and sore ears and snot.
Two:
Bruce Springsteen is blaring in the kitchen – ‘our song’ from when we were dating:
…baby we were born to run… let me in, I wanna be your friend, I wanna guard your dreams and visions... I want to know if love is wild, girl, I want to know if love is real…
Murray is making Cam a cheese sandwich. I’m holding Scott and dancing and then – oops – he’s bringing up most of his last meal on my sweater, but I don’t care because we had no idea, ten years ago when we danced to this song, that one day we’d be so rich.
‘Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.’ – Matthew 6:19-21
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