it was a Zebra Socks kind of day here
kind of wild at times, though not exotic
I was thankful for their warmth
in the melting snow drizzle
their whimsy made me grin
as I moved about the house
in my zebra stockinged feet
and remembered
the zebra skin
yes, from A Real Zebra
that hung on the wall
next to my bed
during my teen years
brought home from Africa
during my aunt’s Peace Corps years
all that, from a pair of socks
fashioned from black and white fibers
I’m sleepin’ in them too
it’s time for Zebra Dreams
goodnight

Happiness is…

Happiness is sitting side by side on the love seat with my youngest son, both still in our pajamas, as he reads Calvin and Hobbes comics to me aloud. A ready laugh is rimming the edges of his voice, and we’re sitting close enough that as he reads I can lay my cheek on his hair and still see the pictures, or plant a kiss atop his sweet head. It was but a brief moment. He’s up and at ‘em now. Playing with his big brother, thoughts of breakfast still far off. But the warmth and love of the moment lingers, the happy, as does the serene smile on my lips. He’s nearly eight and a half and growing up way too fast. They both are. We have a date to build a potato clock later today. Wish me luck!