We're Up...

After two nights of fitful sleeping with mews barely as loud as a whisper piercing my soul, Briar has turned a corner and is feeling almost herself again. Almost because there is still a translucence to her skin and an impossible sweetness to everything that she does, that is too good, too sweet. Not my girl, for she is more. More alive, more intense, just more. I love her as sweet, gentle and tender, but it's her fire that delights me. Her iron will, her strength of purpose and direction even when it involves pens, a white wall, teeth and my favorite book. She is my Briar, in the mend, but not quite back. Brace for a post on the return of my spirited child.



And then there is Avery. Down. Sniffly. Weepy. Spacey. And still, so very still. God help me but this blighted train of toddler malaise is taking its toll on me. Her wide blue eyes slay me, usually so impish and smokey, now turn downward, glassy and threatening to run over at any moment with the not quite tears of feeling bad. Fix it they say. And then she laughs, determined to enjoy every moment of her sister's antics, to soak up extra time with me. Home from the sitter's again today, we three sat eating popsicles - Briar's a treat for good behavior, Avery's to soothe her throat and quell the coughing, and mine? Mine was to keep me from gathering them both in my arms and holding on for dear life...