Moments.

I feel like there are so many little moments that I've been meaning to sit down and write about, that just have been lost in the abyss of school, life, work, and never being caught up at any given moment.  In the rush from task to task, I think that's what I really love about those little memories: for a brief tidbit of time, I was completely caught up in the moment.

Like the moment when I was walking with Carla, and staring down at the wet pavement under my shoes, and was suddenly struck by the depth beneath me.  Stretching into the ground beneath my toes as I stepped were the coloured reflections of my shoes, purple coat,  yellow umbrella, and beside me Carla in red boots, black coat, and blue umbrella.  Sometimes the world is beautiful and elegant and stunning and captivating in black and white.  I'm thankful that when it turns to dullness, it's time to paint.  Paint the world with smiles and laughs and colourful clothes and splashing puddles and singing songs.

Like the moment of teleportation when I'm thrust from my normal place in the dining room with friends back through time and and space to my younger self, walking home from the park with Mom and Tim, licking melting cotton candy ice cream.  And the thick curls on my shoulders fade into strait fine hair blowing across my cheeks.  And my cozy sweater becomes  a well loved purple t-shirt, and I can feel sun and slightly salty air on my arms and toes.  And I swallow and am surrounded by my "grown up friends", and I smile.

Like the moment the bowl of cookie dough is placed on the ground, and we are ready with blue, green, and pink cups of milk, spoons in hand, crisscrossed on the kitchen floor.  Our friend comes over to paint our nails purple, blue, yellow.

Like the moment when I walk into the hall at church on a Tuesday night, and I hear my name - and I melt in thankfulness for the love around me.  I don't think there are or will be many who call me in such a beautiful voice as hers - I hear her week in my name, how she's feeling, if she's tired, if she's excited, if she's anxious.  I love the series of hugs that follows, and the smiles, and the excitement.  God blesses me so much through those girls.  And as I hug her, she's young and small in my arms, and I'm young and small in God's arms, and I pray fervently for her to fully, deeply, forever know how much He loves her.

Like the moment when Gracie and I are sitting across from each other in the living room, couches covered in books, coffee tables covered in dishes, epic movie scores playing in the background.  Amber and Carla are in the dining room, and even though everyone is doing their own thing, I love the togetherness.  I love the relief of sudden bursts of outrageous laughter.  I love the knowing glances of exhaustion and brain overload.  I love that Carla and Amber started serenading.  I love that this is our normal.