I remember wondering, what feels like not so long ago, if I would ever have quiet moments to sit and read again. Not moments between chores and when a short-napping little one might quickly end the reading. Not moments when there is a video playing in the background. But long uninterrupted spans of reading when the words can be pondered and swallowed and become food for the soul.
Last week, with the little three in bed, I realized those moments have returned. With a child whose love of a good book equals mine, we shared the enjoyment of being lost in our reading.
And then Silas proceeded to read me an entire chapter of Pooh, complete with voices and inflections and giggles. Never have I loved him more.
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