It's the new thing, like white polish adorning squared short nails and fedoras atop ombre locks as a fashion statement or cake rolled into balls and smoothed with icing into cute little shapes on a stick as a baking trend... blogging from the sky.
I sit, 29 rows back and arms close to my side less part of me slides into seat A or C's space, adding state lines to the space between me and my sweet little year-and-a-half year old and big sister at 30,000 feet. And I miss them.
I miss how his bright, cerulean moons squint as he smiles and the fish lipped kisses he closes his eyes to lean in and give me. I miss the caress of his hand along my arm as he lulls himself to sleep, laying across my lap with long legs spilling over the edge trying to find their place and we somehow manage to find a comfortable spot nestled somewhere in the crook of my arm.
It's strange how 18 months can seem like such a small little blip on life's radar, and yet, I can't remember life without his bubbly, dramatic presence in the mix. I live for his laughing fits and have cried through his pained tears. I smile at the bond the two little souls that were formed in my womb have created between themselves, the one that made me a mama being a little mama in the making and her shadow... and their loves warms me.
Plane's decending, a red battery light is blinking at me and I'm ready to stretch my legs, my neck and my heart around this new city that my family will very soon be calling home. Just a few days and instead of the sleek lines of a silver laptop warming my legs, it'll be the sleepy body of my year-and-a-half-year-old as I rock him to dreamland and caress his wispy golden strands and try and find that one perfect little curl at the nape of his neck.
You can read through the whole series, including the first year's month-by-month here.