Dear S,

It is a Monday morning and I am catching up on emails while our son sleeps on the couch. As we both well know, J does not like to sleep alone. He will sleep through the coffee grinder, a car alarm and just about anything else as long as he is close to us.

A few minutes ago, our pup was sleeping on the opposite side of the couch. Then she inched over to J and flopped her head onto his arm. They’ve been sleeping like this for a solid half hour, while I give up hope of getting anything done. What does one do in the presence of so much cuteness?

It seems crazy to think we could ever forget these ordinary details that so much define our daily life, like J’s sleep habits or the feeling of his palm on my arm. I guess that’s part of why we are doing this—gathering these ordinary moments like stones that will turn to jewels in our memory.

Speaking of ordinary moments: here are the ones I want to remember from this weekend:

• our son in my arms reaching for you, grabbing onto your arm and practically pulling himself over to you.
• our sunny walk through the park, J asleep in the Solly wrap with a sun hat two sizes too big.
• driving home from the park, eating frosties, me feeding you heaping spoonfuls as you drove.
• the way you woke me up this morning with the question, “what can I do for you before I leave for work?” and the coffee steaming in the French press when I made my way downstairs.
• the sounds J makes when he’s in between sleep and waking. the weight of his warm little body in the crook of my arm.
• our little living room yesterday morning. We canceled all our plans for the day and spent the whole morning on the living room floor, drinking an entire chemex, eating toaster waffles with the sun pouring in and the windows open.

“And one day, when I need/ to tell myself something intelligent about love,/ I’ll close my eyes/ and recall this room and everything in it.” (Li-Young Lee)

Yours,

Z