if

...if this were the last day, it had some good things in common with all the rest of them.  I woke up.  Stared at the sky.  Worried.  Chipped away at the stone.  Stared some more at the sky.  Missed the woods.  Spent an inordinately long and lovely time planning some very small things of little consequence.  Baked some cookies.  Was a little grumpy.  Tried my best to love.

Were it not for the boy, his own worries (and deeply furrowed brow), I might not have noticed at all.  But what if?  So we hauled out the new kicks -- and some wine -- because as far as I know, both Christmas and Friday are coming, but now is all that is ever certain.  So I also know a happy boy who is going to bed in his new shoes. Shouldn't it always be this way, especially the sky and the small things of little consequence and some love?