Monday: this is real life

I'm sitting in my parents' front room, looking out over the trees and their so-many leaf shades and shadows and greens, bending west with the wind. I meant to spend the afternoon helping clean baby brother and his fiancee's new kitchen, but I rested my head and slept for four hours, which was probably best. The cat spent most of that time nestled in the curve of my lap, warming me, granting me insight into why folks have cats.

Less than an hour away, my cousin is laboring to bring a life out into the world.

I have labored over life today, watering tomato plants and lettuce and flowers, folding laundry, sweeping the kitchen. My little labors, and my prayers, join in with her big Labor: and the beauty of human daily life and birthing life, and the silvery green of those leaves' undersides flashing in the breeze, remind me how good it is to sip water and let my feet touch a little suburban grass before I head back into the city.