Aria

We spent yesterday visiting with my sister's family and a few truly dear friends. We talked around the coffee table, watched trash tv, and ate salmon freshly delivered from Pike's Market in Seattle. It was practically perfect.

By 9:30, it was time to drive back through the cold and mist to our little home. I turned on Puccini and the night moved around us as the car sped forward. The girls were asleep before the first stop light and I was left alone with the music. As O Mio Babbino Caro coursed through the car I breathed in deeply a world that can produce such beauty. The piece reached its end while we idled at a red light. For a moment, the last note seemed to hold above me. And then, just when the silence seemed ready to say something new, Viola let out a snoring snort. It cracked across the car, and the sheer force of the thing nearly woke its tiny creator. My best littlest girl with her best big heart. She passed her hand across her face and nestled deeper into her baby blanket.

And I breathed in deeply a world that can produce such beauty.