shuffle to buttons

three day weekends are the way to go.
yesterday was my day. i chose the thrift store with no watch. no checking in. no promises of be back soon. then i did laundry. at the laundromat. one fell swoop instead of one load after the other, apartment living and all. no baby to wrangle. 'this american life' on the shuffle and a gigantic iced latte in hand. clean and folded and warm. like bread pudding made of cotton and fine linens, hung to dry in the 'crap it's almost summer' afternoon.

6 months into our relationship, bryan and i were headed out to taylor's steakhouse for christmas eve and he was perched on my bed as i finished getting ready. he pulled out a small grey velvet box and sheepishly looked away as he handed it to me.
heart. throat. stomach. mascara. it never occurred to me before that apprehension and excitement shared the same dna.
my fingernails keyed the sides of my heart as i paused, breathless, holding the box.
jewelry? really?
i wanted to stop him for a minute. rewind. start over. tell him not to do this.
i cracked the lid and laughed, deep and real.
tiny little ipod shuffle nestled just so. (the one thing i asked for.)
'i thought you'd appreciate the box.'

finn and i spend at least an hour rummaging through a tin of old buttons and pins given to me by susie. we rearrange them and she sorts them according to some hierarchy i don't understand. i watch her eyes and fingers memorize texture and color and she occasionally exclaims with glee. she's sitting in a real chair, on knees.
from christmas eve to here.