Saturday morning meandering

"When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?

I read that quote in Nicole Krauss' book, A History of Love and it stuck. Sometimes I look too hard for the right words. Of course, at other times it must seem as though I don't search for any appropriate words but rather, just blurt out the ridiculous. It happens. I don't regret the words that fall from my fingers or out of my mouth. They're just what happens when you're living and breathing amongst other people.

This morning I'm searching for a word to describe what it feels like to miss Zoey. She's overnighting at Baachan and Grandad's house, and from what I hear, is quickly becoming best friends with the bearded one she once couldn't bring herself to play with without coaxing. Now they walk down the street hand in hand. I'd like to see that. I bet it's sweet beyond proper explaining.

Right now I'm stuck between cursing myself for being awake at 6:30am on a Saturday, and missing Zo. I think that rather than search for words I might just roll over and cloak June with one arm, you know, soak her in while the sun comes up. Then I might get up, grab some coffee, find a fun present for my snoring wife, and then draw something. That sounds like an incredible start to a largely empty day.

I hope the sky is wide open and blue this morning. I might count airplanes today. I know, I'm being waaay ambitious.

It's funny, but what I've found is that although we may spend an inordinate amount of time searching for the right words, they're usually the ones that find the page or drift out into the open air anyway...on their own.

Now I must go and feed the cat before he eats my wife.

"Once upon a time there was a boy, and he loved a girl, and her laughter was a question that he wanted to spend his whole life answering."

That's from that book too. Good book. I've got two girls like that.