may

I've noticed you creeping in some days subtly, other days not so. Lying on my bed mid afternoon nursing Oscar the sun splashes through the trees on the black top and I can almost feel 

the heat. 

Tonight, half way through the month I sit in the pink chair with a six month old snuggled in close, whispering breaths against my neck. Time is a thief like that. There's cleaning and packing to be done, for a quick trip back to the coast. But then again, there's always something [else] to be done. So here I'll sit. Possibly until I fall asleep. I watch your sleep drunk eyes peek around every now and then and comfort you with forehead kisses. Every time I breath you in. Thankful.