Our days our numbered on this earth. Finding your number is as elusive as the needle in the haystack.
And we finally had a day off. Finally.
And we spent it on the Trace. Just the four of us.
I watch her snap picture after picture and stand in amazement at the difference just a year can make in the life of a child.
And in these numbered days you wake one morning to a young woman's arms loving you good morning and only pauses of a child are left behind.
And I lean into him and feel his breath and the day is kissed with beauty and perfection.
Too many days are spent making a living.
But isn't this the living?
