For all the cluttered, busy, colorful bits through the rest of our house, I try hard to keep our bedroom as sparse as I possibly can. It's the only room in our house in which there are not one - but sometimes four (gasp!) blank walls. It feels different than the rest of our space, I think, and I really love that about it. It feels peaceful, even - dare I say - calm (relatively speaking, of course, with often a bed full of little people).
Recently though, after spending a whole lot of time in there awake - many times a day, every day for the past six months, to be precise - that same blank wall that I usually love has been calling out to me for something. All that nursing baby time - staring at the same wall with nothing on it - just wasn't doing it for me anymore.
So on just one wall - the one wall I always seem to be staring at (trying not to fall asleep myself), now holds a cluster of some of my favorite things to look at. Full of mismatched frames, contrasting styles, varied textures, and many colors - it's a hodge-podge, to be sure. But each and every thing I see there feels good to me. I'm loving it.
Mostly though, there's a whole lot of staring at this - these toes, those chubby fingers, that baby hair fuzz, those little ears. My fourth sweet babe, and I tell you, the amazing-ness, the sweetness and the beauty of these quiet little moments we have together hasn't gotten a wee bit less lovely than it was eight years ago with my first, or six months ago when Harper was first born. Except that, maybe, I have a little bit more understanding about just how fast time is moving. And so I hold him a little bit closer. And I gaze just a little bit longer...
