A Piece of My Day

The scent of balsam in the room, mixed in with the smell of the wood stove burning.  Gray clouds like a blanket of soft velvet fill the sky.  The smell of rain hangs in the heavy air.  Lamp light fills the room with a homeyness that wraps around me like a comfortable shawl.   It is a perfect day.  Break is rising in the kitchen, while I crochet some more on an afghan for Mei-Lings up coming recovery.  A star made with rainbow color yarn and white sparkly yarn.  Things she loves.  Fabric on the table waiting to be turned into pillowcases for her long recovery.   I wonder how many it will take to make her recovery brighter, dear sweet child.  She asked me once when I was telling her that my mother was in Heaven, "if my mother had taken Gods hand when He held it out to her."  I said I was sure she did and this tender child told me, "Mimi I did not take Gods hand when He held it out for me, and He smiled at me."   It makes me wonder a bit about the many times she has come so close to dying.   She is our miracle child, as they all are in one way or another.  Each life a gift, each breath a gift, each smile a gift.  There is yarn and fabric too for Yen to have a pillowcase and yarn for a star afghan.   
Soft music drifts through the rooms, the kind of music that you might call, pensive, gentle. The weather outside matches the notes.   I love this kind of day.  Nothing is rushed, everything feels right.   You can feel love in every molecule.   It is a day for poetry and sips of tea.  Long conversations and hand holding with the one you love.   Life is good, it really is.