06/ 17/ 2016
Jude and Ezra splash and laugh while I rinse the day away. Waterfalls wash the sand out of their hair. Bubble beards loosen the food and dirt caked on their faces after a day outside. They take turns lying on their backs, pretending to be mermaids while the water laps around their ears.
The biggest and best mystery of summer is how dirt manages to make its way under every fingernail and into every roll. I take extra care to scrub their hands each night. Jude’s are long and slender and don’t collect dirt like they used to. Another reminder she’s turning more into a “big gul” each day. Ezra’s always have the most dirt. Even though he’s a year and a half, he still has the chubby, dimpled hands of a baby.
I never thought I’d be grateful for dirt. For the chance it gives me to look at their hands and remember how small they once were. To remember how they used to hold onto my collar as they fell asleep. Or how they clutched my fingers when they learned to balance. Now those hands drag me around the yard chasing after bugs and kitty-cat clouds.
Bath time is my favorite part of every day because it brings my babies back—if only for a moment.