Reading Time

Published on Coffee + Crumbs Instagram


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We’re in bed at 3pm — with a fuzzy grey blanket fresh out the dryer around us. And a stack of books.
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This is the cure for 'nothing,' for a day when the radio in my head only broadcasts the same message, a tired tornado warning: Today you did nothing. You don't do anything. Why are you so exhausted?
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So we read together, the window open, blowing in a fresh breeze from the water and the sounds of cars driving to picnics and chickens pecking in the yard.
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Toddler rests his little chubby hand on my arm. He lays his head on me. The sound of my voice is putting me to sleep.
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This is a melody. This song is drowning out the relentless radio station in my head and replacing it with a new one: you matter, Mama.
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You are everything, this is everything, this is what matters.
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I read because I want him to love reading. I read because I want to talk to him but I don't know what to say. I read because I'm not a good play-er with toys. I don't do the blocks and I'm bad at catch and the trains just stress me out because there are so many pieces I’ll have to clean up and I leave him to his own imagination.
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But not here, here we get to imagine together.
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I do the sound effects, I can do voices. His little face is rapt attention, his three year old boy body, normally vibrating with the excitement of growing up, is relaxed.
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I read because it shuts off the radio and tunes us in to each other instead.