HomeTHE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.
THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.
A local author's life with two little ones and a book just out from Random House called, you guessed it, THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE DIAPER PAIL.
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Do not disturb.
Late as usual. From Loca to just plain Lazy. Yoga Loca. Oh, to be four-and-a-half. 38. Only as far as your headlights. 6:43 a.m. For Reese, on her 13th birthday. Daddy's boy. April 08 May 08 June 08 July 08 August 08 September 08 October 08 November 08 Check out my personal blog at www.geralynbrodermurray.blogspot.com. 
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I'm fresh out of the shower, my hair wet when Reese rolls into my room in her pink and purple nightgown. She is thrilled to see me. I bend down to her, engulfing her in my arms when she says, full of admiration:
"I love you so much Mama. You smell like ro, like roast beef." She steps back, considering. "I mean roses, red roses!" A couple of hours later, I drop her off at the amazing school she's been at for the past few years for her first day of Kindergarten (the transitional, summertime kind but Kindergarten nonetheless). She shows me where to sign her in and where to stow her things in the new classroom. When it comes time to say goodbye, she does so in the company of her friends, all elated with their newfound status, the proud seniors of the preschool. "Do you want to walk me to the door, the waving window?" I ask on my way out, knowing full well she would. "Nope, I'm good," waving to me, smiling, beaming actually, basking in the company of her friends, a good ten feet from my arms, never stronger. |