Sunday

"It took me a while to make it," she says, "because that fabric curls at the edges."

She fingers lime polka-dots and aqua stripes. She thrusts a rag-tag rectangle in my hand, edges meandered and tortile, "Here."

Red cherries on the back, "A bookmark, thanks." I say. "I really like it."

"It has an extra spot on the front." She points to a square of chartreuse. "This morning when you said you needed a bookmark for you Bible I thought, 'You're not gonna have to wait long for that.'" She grins.

I smooth it flat between my hands. "I like the colors you picked. You always know what I will like." I smile at her eyes. She blinks.

Side by side we snip and sew and the evening swoops in gentle. For moments we enter the other world where we tread as women, shoulder to shoulder.

Gratitude:

568. A baby tooth, in a tiny glass jar.

569. Bookmark, lime dots, blue stripes, cherries red.

570. A gallery opening, my children begging, "Lift me up one more time, so I can see, Momma."

571. Jane's confession, "I don't like to go to the gallery openings to eat the food, I actually like to look at the art."

572. How Jane awards rumpled green ribbons from a St. Paddy's Day Fun Run to Jack and Lulie when they clean their room.

573. How Lulie tells me over and over that she made a BLUE friend at church.

574. Baby leg warmers from ladies' knee socks. Brown and blue and pink stripe.

575. How Rosie shakes her head, "Na-na-na," when I try and try to feed her green beans. And how she finally eats 'em, 14 bites.

576. How Jack bear-hug-balances Rose and blue blankie in the corner of the couch.

577. 9 velcro diapers converted to snaps.

578. Azure cashmere on the thrift store rack felted and re-invented with celery green snaps and ruffles.

579. Husband's deep voice and blue eyes when I whine, "At least I wasn't being as mean as I could have been," and he blinks all serious, "It shall be credited to your account," he says, and I bust into laughs instead of frowns.

580. More peach pie. Lentils soup with coconut milk and rosemary. Soft bread. Vegetables with bleu cheese. Family around the table. Craig, another birthday older. The children belting Happy Birthday and blowing his candles for him.

581. Watching my mother lead under great pressure.

582. Memorizing her.

583. More of the house swept into place.

584. How Jane gets up four times through the night to check the clock the night before Grandad takes her to breakfast.

585. How I snuggle a few extra moments each night with a different child, and how they keep track and count down the evenings to their long-tuck-in for bed.

586. Floss and clean teeth.

587. Each day a little stronger, little tougher, little less easily offended.