sticky fingerprints

The evening sun beams penetrate the window, blinding me momentarily. I am laying on the couch watching cartoons with the kids. I am not present, I am lost. The day was bad. Grey and cloudy and full of anger and frustration. I am tired, I would even go to say completely exhausted. At this moment the sun is too much and the noise of the TV and his music in the other room is overwhelming. I want to yell at it and be angry because that seems to be how I am handling the rest of lives difficulties today. 

But my eyes adjust, and in a moment I am shifted. My conscious is shifted to a much more present place. My mind is suddenly awake and I realize what the sun is trying to show me. 

The sticky finger prints on the entertainment unit. I remember hearing the kids playing with the WII games using them to create stories and the giggles that proceeded. They loved to tell stories about the pictures in the front covers. 

The dusty hand prints on the patio window. I am transported back to the moment two little girls wanted to go out side in their dress high heels. I fought and fought them till I gave up, exhausted by their keen negotiation skills. Once outside, they had a blast trying to skip and play hola hoop in plastic princess shoes. 

The loud music, the dance music. The music Daddy puts on, luring his girls to come join him for a dance party. That music to them is joy. It means daddy is waiting and they are about to fill the better part of an hour with laughs, new dance moves and quality time.  

The grayness dissapeared, and though the sun was setting in the sky, it was filling up my soul inside. I didn’t clean the dinner dishes while they danced, I cuddled my little guy, and watched three maniacs dance their hearts out. I didn’t immediately grab the dusting cloth and window cleaner to clean the windows and entertainment unit, I looked at those messy and imperfect marks and smiled.

Someday there will be no little hands to leave finger prints around. Someday the noise will be gone. All the noise, the giggles, the storytelling, the whining and crying. Someday there will be no desire to dance for most of the evening with daddy. Someday there will be no cuddles with my wee man. Some day everything that pushes me and exhausts me will be gone and grown up. 

and I will miss it, with all my heart. 

Much love, 



While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.

~Angela Schwindt



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