Overwhelmed

It’s four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon in November. My iPod is shuffling a genius playlist that began with A Fine Frenzy, and the fall candles are burning, filling our new home with a warm spicy feeling. The TV is off, the floors are clean, and the oven is cooking our dinner. Sleeping on my chest, wrapped tightly against my body with the mei tai, is this most perfect thing in the world.

I’m so excited about the direction in which our life is headed. Things are happening, good things that can’t be dulled by the not-so-good things. So many times lately I’ve had to stop myself from crying tears of happiness. I can be in the bathroom drying my hair, or driving to the grocery store, and I just get overwhelmed by this feeling of perfect, the overwhelming beauty of life. And it all started with this perfect boy.