Yesterday was a hard day. I clung to the Flying Dutchman in desperation, looking for something to delight in.
Perhaps the sparkle . . . the twinkle of love . . . of delight.
Kind thoughts were far and few between.
A last ditch attempt was made. Unbeknownst to me, my eldest had bribed his brother into cleaning up.
The reward: chocolate chip cookies.
I both sighed and delighted in this prospect. Chocolate is almost like salve on a wound.
But like arnica, the healing
numbing effect only lasted so long. After the torches had been extinguished and only the heart lights remained . . . my crew escaped from their barracks.
Too many words later the house stilled. For a moment. A lonely cry burst through the late hour. A hungry baby girl, my Pleasant Word.
I brought her into our bed. She hadn't seen her dad. Though he lay sleeping, it didn’t deter her.
Da. Da. Da. Oh. Da. Da. Glua-gula-gula, her delightful candy-like voice filled our exhausted bedroom. Like music her voice wafted through the night, causing me to laugh heartily and wake the normally groggy Engineer from his deep slumber.
If some of my post doesn’t make since, then you might need to refer to yesterday’s post and my unfortunate adventure on the Flying Dutchman.
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