It's almost 10 AM, and I still don't want to start.
Why are some days like this?
Wake up feeling tired and wondering what I'm doing.
What if I'm getting it wrong?
What if I know I'm getting it wrong?
I look at that big white binder.
Our schooling schedule.
Because what I want to do today is take my camera out.
Or spend the day writing.
Or putting a care package together for my soldier son.
Whom I miss desperately today.
My face splits and spills.
Because words help me so to find the real problem.
That I miss my son.
Grown and gone.
And me sitting in the chair that rocked him that way.
My heart all fractured.
Remembering his dark head tucked warmly beneath my chin.
His chubby hand in mind.
Our hours of reading together on the couch.
Sitting spaceless and quiet.
His deep tenderness.
His strength, and His love for Jesus.
The sound of his voice calling me "Mama."
And this one heart a bit off today.