On a Sunday

























Father John Misty's vinyl humming in the background; I at the stove with brussels sprouts sizzling and Matt and Lucia on the patio grilling burgers - with the occasional plea for supplies: buns, cheese, hey, could you bring me a serving platter in a few minutes? These requests to me in-between spouting fatherly reminders to Chee - mind your pretty blue dress, if you want to play in the dirt, at least disrobe before running a muck!

Lucia asking to watch Aristocats eight different times over the course of dinner. The two of us finally convincing her that our company is more favorable. And she, finally giving in, and dancing to Daft Punk while we cleared the dishes from the table.

Not long after, she was sneaking away to play dress up in her room, only coming out on occasion to model an outfit change. The girl and her unmatched ability to create - skirts over her head, one shoulder exposed, layered beneath it another skirt of bright colors; ribbons draped in various ways; and always a different stuffed animal at her side.

Then the quiet night settling in over us - a blanket of Oklahoma heat.
Teeth brushing, strawberry face scrubbing.
Soon to say goodnight.
Counting our blessings one by one.


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