and has forgotten her own name.
My little boys ignore the obvious rush of arctic air and sloshy mud
and forge through the elements to bask in the clearing that broke
this afternoon after days upon days of rain and whipping wind.
I stand behind the sliding glass doors looking on as they salvage
what's left of the day
enjoy what's good
bask in what's been given
and I am super glued to the floor.
My oldest comes to the door for a drink
I ask him if it's just too cold to play outside.
"Not if you keep moving, mom," he says in between gulps.
"If you keep moving it gets warmer and warmer."
He shuts the door, cuts off the cold of a stuck-in-winter spring and runs off into the yard.
I watch him closely as he
and I know what I have to do.
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