The kids are alright, I'm alright, and the world is still turning. Perfection is for the birds, that fucked up image of how our lives are suposed to be are what screws everything up. It kills the adventure and suspense. I want simplicity.
sunrises
fresh coffee
to hear "hey mommy I'm hungry" in the morning
and "I dont wanna go to bed" at night from tiny voices that speak to my soul.
friends to talk with
secrets to tell
stars and street lights.
maybe a hand to hold.
A day at a time.
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