After three and a half years of being a stay-at-home mom: of wiping asses and making lunches and putting out playdoh and scrubbing dishes and breaking up fights and band-aiding scrapes, I had two hours to myself. Holden started preschool.
I ran to the lake, a spring in my step. There, the wind blew what is left of my hair and the sun warmed my arms and my phone pumped hip hop into my ears.
Then I ran back here, to this place that has housed us through all these scrapes and cuts and bruises.
I opened the blinds, let the light in.