refined

 These are the moments I am holding in my hands.

They are slipping, fragile

through my fingers like soup and sunshine

offering them up to you, God,

what can you make of this life?

My toddler son and I biking in the Texas desert, to picnics, he is small and I am with him, him and me and sage and bunnies, and daddy's planes up above

I want to be the kind of mom kids wish they had.

He was young and the memory is gentle in my chest, warm and golden sunsets

Even though there must have been loneliness, and fear,

i don't see it

Will you

Refine

My life

Friend?

Like you've refined those memories?