I’m loving this place. The slanting rain hammers on outdoors but there is always a wash of remaining sunlight slipping through the window. There is always a fat book open on the table, and more fat books waiting to be opened. There is always coffee in the jar, cookies to be eaten. The light is always soft, sometimes too dark for a book, but always inviting. Latte boy always warms my feet. This is my home, my little homeland.
Just like that, October passed us by.
This is she, all of three years and one month, a pretty little lady if you ask me.
At three, she is fabulous company who knows exactly how to strike up a conversation. At dinners, she does this, “Daddy, Mommy, I have something to tell you. Today, today, ah, Teacher Siti’s class is playing with toys, you know?” And just like that, we talk about her teachers, friends, toys, ribbons, shampoo, playgrounds, weather. And just like that, dinners take forever. Happily so. Most of the time, at least.
She tells us, “Wow, the clouds are so beautiful! White! Wow, so fluffy!” When we laugh, she goes, “It’s so funny right? The clouds are so fluffy!” We laugh more, and witness the changing colours of the sky, right in the middle of the sidewalk where people pass us by with a look of bewilderment. The moody colours of dusk – the perfect prelude to bedtime, to more chatter of the non-important yet grand variety.
With grateful wonder, I’m embracing November, that step closer to December, the month of jingle bells and all things red and gold and starry.
Our tree is up. She wants the fairy lights on all day – “Mommy, our house is so pretty. Tomorrow I want to tell Teacher A we have a Christmas tree that is SO pretty!” She’s house proud, I see.
Cheers to a pretty November.
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