this moment...{the children have left the building}

It has already happened.  Like birds, my children have migrated. This is not a weekend thing or a summer thing. It's warm now and my children have moved outside. They sleep under the stars on the edge of the wild.

I can only imagine what they must gain from this. 

Our night sky is so very black. The stars pulse with light, but also an energy.  Often at night, Matt will have to run down to the garage for something and he will come back and say, 'you really need to go stand outside.'  I know what he's talking about and always go. The silence is staggering, the dark like a mysterious friend, and then the stars and their deep symphony. 

So when the children abandon their beds and tote their bags out, I get it. 

                                                    Dad takes the book out to read to them.

We can hear them talking and laughing outside our window. 

Whispers in the deep dark. 

No fear, ever, I don't even like sowing the word out there. 

It's not an association they've ever made.

The night is beautiful and to be embraced.

Morning is still hard. Nothing is cozier than a feather bag, but school beckons.

My star bathers.