fly in my coffee

I had plans today: clean the toy room, do the laundry, take the boys to the wildlife safari.

But instead of following them, I allowed spontaneity.

Today was one of the last nice days of the year, before the winter winds blow in, freeze us, coop us up. So we played outside, me and Holden still in our pajamas.

I read Annie Dillard, who is something like a naturalist and a scientist and a writer and a quiet thinker all rolled together. She is the queen bee of being present, of observing.

I put down my book and watched my boys as they played. I noticed what I usually don’t: the way the wind ruffles Holden’s hair, how in charge Brandon is. I watched a fly land on my leg then fly away, again and again.

Brandon brought out cheese and chips and we had an accidental picnic.

We lived the day as it wanted to be lived.

I drank around the fly in my coffee.

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