It’s drive thirty minutes East to get eggs and milk from the farmer lady. Little chickens, yellow and brown and red cluck, cluck as they waddle in the yard and two babies waddle around the yard too and there’s a garden overgrown with rows of vines and small, green squashes and watermelons and taller plants held up by wire with small bundles of baby red tomatoes hanging off the branches.
"Touch speaks without words to the body that it's all okay." Truer words have rarely been spoken! Beautiful, Emily. I'm glad you're in touch with real life! A phenomenon too rare these days.
Beautiful, reminds me of rub rub pat pat at the very perfect perimeter with the very perfect pressure. Then it turns to Pat, Pat, Pat, ever lighter and lighter until she fades to sleep and you wither away from her bed leaving her to the adventures in her sweet dreams and whisper to her “I love you”.
"Touch speaks without words to the body that it's all okay." Truer words have rarely been spoken! Beautiful, Emily. I'm glad you're in touch with real life! A phenomenon too rare these days.
Beautiful, reminds me of rub rub pat pat at the very perfect perimeter with the very perfect pressure. Then it turns to Pat, Pat, Pat, ever lighter and lighter until she fades to sleep and you wither away from her bed leaving her to the adventures in her sweet dreams and whisper to her “I love you”.