Saturday afternoon, stretched out on the couch, alternating between reading about the Green New Deal, indulging in fiction downloaded from the city library, and prepping for school. Big, heavy snowflakes distract my attention and I find myself staring out the window for long stretches. A very Ska Christmas is playing over the smart speaker as my husband explores new playlists. My college student daughter, wrapped in her unicorn robe complete with horned hood, is taking a break from essay writing and final projects to read fan fiction.

Saturdays were meant for this sort of relaxation (well, not the lesson planning). I'm grateful that my circumstances allow my this warm, safe place and the time to enjoy it.

Uncle Donnie

Anya was known "The Incredible Velcro Baby". She would not go to anyone besides me and her dad. Not to ANYONE. When Greg and I wanted to go out, we would leave after putting Anya to bed and the babysitter would sit in petrified silence, hoping she would not wake up. (I love you, my brave sisters and nieces!) When we were at our playgroup, I had to sneak off to the bathroom, my friend trying to block the view so Anya would not notice that I had left. 

That's why, when we had a playgroup field trip to the firehouse, we caused a big stir. 

Anya would not go to anyone else besides her parents. Except, apparently, to her Uncle Donnie.

Uncle Donnie died unexpectedly last week. I can't get this picture out of my head.