fresh air and new roads


bench and pumpkin

Just after 9am. I am mid-sentence when he wakes up. That’s generally how it goes. Whether because of murphy’s law or because I am almost always mid-sentence.

A short nap this morning. A slightly different spin on our normal morning routine. Come home from preschool drop off. He sleeps in his carseat while I write/review/tweet/read/work. I’ve come to love this routine. The quiet. The space and time to think after the chaos of the morning. And all with him so close that the sound of his peaceful, sleepy breathing weaves in and out of the click of my keys. This is our morning song.

I smile and greet him. I chatter on about waking up and getting him up out of that carseat. I set out the playmat so that our morning routine might continue. Play time. New diaper. Eating. Showering. More play and then nap time again.

But today, it is nearly 60 degrees outside already. At 9am. In January.

Not one of those degrees should be squandered.

So I open the window to let the fresh air in and the routine out.

church and clouds

Back into the carseat and out we go. We walk down the hill. And we keep going, down a street I’ve never traveled. Uncharted territory for us both. And I love that. So many of the paths we walk together, I have traveled before. But not today. New streets. New houses. New trees. New crosswalks.

New sights to see with my newborn.

The wind whips around a bit. But not harshly. Cool on our faces. He smiles with each breeze. The feeling of soft, cool air that doesn’t bite is new to my boy.

We find that quiet time of morning. Houses sitting very still, their people either already out and about at work or quietly settling into their own routines behind closed windows and curtains.


This is when I love walking with my little ones. I can walk and talk to them and not feel self-conscious that I am talking to a barely-awake, barely-three-month-old. We talk of the breeze and the trees. Christmas trees and wreaths lining the streets. People setting out their holiday things still, two weeks into the new year. We talk of how this is a walk, a thing he hasn’t experienced much. And I promise that there will be so many more walks in his future. I talk of walks to the park with his big sister. I talk of long Sunday afternoon walks with sister and Daddy. Once the weather gets nice. Nicer, even, than today.

Eventually, he sleeps. The soothing roll of wheels over concrete too much for him. He is sleeping soundly by the time I carry him inside.

We try again later. Another walk. Another search for peace and new roads and experiences. But already the temperature has started to drop. It’s too cold now. And he is hungry. And a bit tired. And the rolling isn’t lulling this time. So we turn at the end of the second block and make our way back home.


just write.


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