this is what happened in my house this weekend:
my husband and i cleaned out our bookshelves. he sorted, i held the baby, and we each reminded the other that we can always go to the library if we really miss a book that we let go.
toward the end, he uncovered two coloring books and held them up for my stay-or-go verdict. i’m pretty sure i channeled my inner 8-year-old when i said, “oh, my coloring books! i love coloring!”
and he looked completely dumbfounded, and said, “really? you do?”
sometimes the ins and outs of daily life lull us into believing that we know all there is to know about our near and dear loved ones. and, hey, if we know all that and we still like each other, that’s awesome. but this is even better. this means there are more questions to ask, more stories to tell, more quirks to discover. hooray for that.
thanks, overstuffed bookshelves. very helpful, indeed.